A Tale by the Sisters Hameron Book 2
by daisyb10
Summary: Co-authored by jellybean30. This intricate, twisty, comedy-romance is a Housian adaptation of "Shrek 2". Join the newlyweds, House and Cameron, along with their trusty sidekick Wilson, on an epic adventure to the Kingdom of Cape Wooster. Rated Teen.
1. Ch 1: Storybook Beginning

**A/N: **Welcome to "A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 2". This Housian adaptation of "Shrek 2" features the characters from "House" in a story that's filled with the humour and romance of "Shrek 2".

This intricately woven tale is full of twists and surprises and we hope you have as much fun reading our fic as we've had writing it for you!

If you missed "A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 1", you will find the story under **id: 3914612**

As always, we do not own House, M.D., Shrek, or any of their characters, nor do we profit from this story.  
Let the adventure begin ...

_**... The Sisters Hameron, a.k.a. jellybean30 and daisyb10**_

oOoOo

**_A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_Chapter 1: Storybook Beginning_

_**Once upon a time, in a land called Far Far Away  
**__**the King and Queen were delighted to welcome a beautiful baby girl.  
**__**And throughout the land, everyone was happy.**_

_**Until the sunset, and they saw that the baby was cursed  
**__**with a savage spell that overcame her every night.  
**__**Desperate, they sought the counsel of a fairy godmother,  
**__**who advised them to secure the princess in a tower  
**__**to wait for the kiss of her very own Prince Charming.**_

Prince Robert Chase, M.D. disembarked from the Greyhound Bus, folding a small leather-bound diary closed and hastily shoving it into his back pocket. He traversed the expansive bus terminal to the bevy of taxis waiting to ferry their passengers to destinations unknown.

"Dewey Screwem Tower, please," Chase told the driver, and settled back in his seat, ignoring the faint vomit smell of the upholstery. He removed the worn diary, a diary that had once belonged to his mother, and re-read her final entry, wherein she had written down his favorite childhood bedtime story.

His mother had read this story to him every night during his upbringing. As he grew into the strapping young man he now was, his mother had revealed to him it was not, in fact, just a story, but was his destiny. He had given up his fond dream of attending the seminary and become a doctor, toiling his way through medical school so that one day he would be worthy of his princess.

_**And he withstood a long and treacherous journey, over many miles and arduous obstacles, risking his health and sanity to reach the dragon's keep. For he was the most cunning, and the most stunning in all the land. And it was written in the stars this his kiss would break the dreaded curse.**_

The taxi arrived at the precipice where the bridge to the Dewey Screwem Tower had once stood. The cabbie accepted his fare with an uncertain look; no one ever came here. Chase surveyed the rather frightening safety bridge that had been stretched across the gaping maw surrounding the tower. Constructed of nothing but a few woven steel cables, it looked less than a pleasant stroll. No matter. He crossed the bridge swiftly and rushed to the tower's entrance, pausing only to check his reflection in the smoky glass panels.

He ran one hand through his silky golden locks and smoothed the other over the diary in his back pocket. Making his way to the elevators, he continued the story he knew so well.

_**He alone would climb to the highest room in the tallest tower**_.

Chase pushed the button for the top floor, nearly stumbling over a woman's high heeled shoe when he stepped back in the elevator to lean against the wall. He waited impatiently until the doors finally opened onto a small laboratory.

_**He would enter her room, pull back the curtains to find …**_

"Who the hell are you?" a voice snapped from behind him. Chase released a startled and somewhat girly scream as he spun around to face his attacker.

He was shocked to find a young woman, or was it a man? He/She had very effeminate features, but the mustache was somewhat confusing. The large lab coat betrayed no signs of a figure.

"Princess Allison?" he questioned. He knew of her curse, but had not prepared himself for her to be so, so …

"No!" the man/woman replied. "I'm Thirteen."

"Thank goodness," Chase sighed in relief. "Well then, if you're not the princess, where is she?"

"She's on her honeymoon," Thirteen replied, walking past Chase to sit at the room's small desk, and began leafing through an issue of _How to Play the Game for Both Teams_.

"Her honeymoon!" Chase shouted. Thirteen looked up in distress. "With whom?!"

oOoOo

"I don't care how busy she is, the Fairy Godmother is going to see me now!" Chase huffed as he forced his way past the diminutive male assistant at the desk and burst through the guarded door.

"Excuse me," the Fairy Godmother protested from behind her expansive desk, "but you can't just …"

"You can't be the Fairy Godmother," Chase said in bewilderment. The woman who stood before him was hardly the withered old witch he'd expected to find. She wasn't as young as Princess Allison, but she was far from old. Her chocolaty tresses, long and luxurious, were free of any gray and the few lines about her eyes and mouth were barely more than noticeable. Her metallic grey suit jacket was cinched tightly at the waist, accentuating the shapely curve of her hip. The matching skirt was just long enough to escape being unprofessional. Her blouse revealed just the proper amount of skin at the neck, and its rich green reminded Chase of new 100 bills.

"My name is Stacy Warner. I'm a witch, just like my predecessor, but I've been practicing law for the past several years. I can assure you, however, I _am_ the Fairy Godmother."

"Warner, Warner …. You used to work for Lord Vogler, didn't you?" Prince Robert asked.

"That's right? Did you know him?" Stacy asked.

"We had some dealings," Prince Robert replied. "I used to work at PPTH. Never mind that, what happened to the other Fairy Godmother?"

"Corporate take over," Stacy explained. "The Fairy Godmother had been losing money for years; I needed a new career."

"Because of what happened when Vogler went down?" Chase asked.

Stacy looked at him sternly, but her anger quickly faded. She supposed if she was going to convince him to remain as her client he probably deserved some explanation.

"Yes, because of what happened with Vogler. I'm not exactly proud of it, but I'm used to doing whatever is necessary to get my clients what they need. In Lord Vogler's case, that sometimes meant doing things that were …unsavory. When Dr. Cuddy and Dr. Howe blew the whistle on his research tampering there was a lot of fall out. I was disbarred," Stacy explained. She studied Chase carefully, unsure if her honesty was about to lose her a client.

"So you became a witch?" Chase asked, confused.

"I've always been a witch," Stacy explained carefully. "I heard that the previous Fairy Godmother was having some financial difficulties. PPTH's lawyers paid me a small severance package to leave quietly and I used it to buy her out and take over."

"But, you can't possibly be powerful enough to be the Fairy Godmother. You're much too young!"

"Thank you, now get out of my office and see Jerome about an appointment on your way out," Stacy said firmly, a touch of a drawl in her speech.

"Do you know who I am?" Chase demanded.

"Look around," Stacy said. Chase did. The entire office was strewn with papers. Papers in files, papers bursting out of folders, papers in piles and loose pages scatter haphazardly over every possible surface. "I just took over here. I barely even know who _I_ am. Even in all the years I practiced law I never saw such shoddy record keeping. So you'll have to forgive me if I don't recognize you."

"My name is Prince Robert Chase, M.D. I am the heir to the throne of The Kingdom of Cape Wooster and I've come to express my displeasure about the non-fulfillment of a contract," Chase stated grandly.

"A prince?" Stacy asked. "You wouldn't happen to have a copy of the contract, would you? The last Fairy Godmother was a sweet lady, pretty powerful witch too, but I'm not sure she even knew she owned a file cabinet."

"I have this," Chase said, and handed her the diary that had belonged to his mother.

She took it from him and flipped through the pages quickly, pausing when she reached something of interest. "Treacherous journey, arduous obstacles, highest room in the tallest tower …" She looked up at Chase and smiled. "I think I get the idea. What's the problem?"

"She's already married to someone else!" Chase shouted, by now utterly exasperated.

"That is a problem," Stacy said. She perused the diary a little more carefully and took her seat behind her desk once more. Finally she snapped the book shut and gestured for Chase to sit. "Prince Robert, you're my client now and believe me, you _will_ have your Princess.

**_... by jellybean30_**


	2. Ch 2: Honeymoon

**_A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 2: Honeymoon**_

Cameron scowled at House quickly as he fidgeted in his seat, secretly smirking at the t-shirt he was sporting under his leather jacket. It had a large image of Cameron's face across the chest, emblazoned below with the phrase 'I'm hitting that and it's totally hot'. She had pretended to be annoyed, of course, but in reality she couldn't agree more.

He fidgeted again and she turned and frowned at him.

"If you're going to insist on wearing that _thing_ everywhere, the least you can do is sit still for ten minutes. Especially since you insisted on no photos," she seethed.

"But I don't want to sit still," he whined.

"What are you? Eight?" Cameron hissed out of the side of her mouth, all the while forcing a smile.

"I don't know, could an eight year old do this?" He contorted his face into the most hideous expression, tongue stuck out and eyes crossed. She tried to remain stern, but she couldn't. She laughed.

"You're incorrigible," she sighed.

"Among other things," he muttered. House began tapping his cane between his feet. Just when Cameron was about to snap, a voice pre-empted her outburst.

"Princess, it's finished."

"Finally!" House shouted and practically leapt from his seat.

The frightened caricaturist cowered when House snatched the drawing from him roughly. Cameron smiled at him reassuringly and then crutched over to look at the drawing with House.

She snorted. House did not look amused. He handed it to her and limped off toward the boardwalk. She looked again at the drawing and smiled. The twinkling eyes and impish grin were perfectly rendered. But that was not what was causing her to snort in such an un-princess like fashion. No, the snort was definitely caused by the horns, devil's tail and pitchfork inspired cane the House in the picture held.

She paid the caricaturist and placed the rolled up picture into the pack she wore on her back. She crutched over the boardwalk and stood beside her husband. Cameron slid her right hand into his left and smiled when he clasped his long fingers over her delicate ones.

They made their way slowly down the boardwalk, taking in the salt air and ocean breeze of Atlantic City. Sun and sand for Cameron, gambling and buffets for House; close enough to drive but far enough away to avoid work for a week. It was perfect.

They strolled lazily down the boardwalk, hands entwined. Lazily, until House saw something of interest and picked up the pace. Cameron stumbled along behind him as best she could, but finally he released her hand and struck off on his own. Cameron tried to be annoyed, but when she finally saw where House was headed she couldn't help but smirk.

She headed inside to make the arrangements and came back out to find House already straddling one of the tiny mopeds. They had the motorcycle, of course, but with the sidecar attached to convey their luggage, it was hardly practical for idly driving around the crowded beach and casino areas. The smaller moped would be perfect for them, and eliminate their unspoken need to stick to the sights near their hotel.

Cameron was smiling widely until she noticed a young, blonde woman sidle up beside House and run a hand lightly across his shoulders and down one arm. House looked up and revealed only mild surprise the gentle touch hadn't come from Cameron. She watched with irritation as House gave the nubile blonde an appreciative look. When the blonde flashed him a tooth-paste commercial white smile, Cameron crutched over and delivered a violent blow to the interloper's firm, tanned leg. The blonde yelped and limped off. House shrugged. Cameron glared for a moment until House looked appropriately contrite before climbing onto the moped behind him to enjoy the remainder of their honeymoon.

oOoOo

"Oh, it's good to be home," House sighed as he and his new bride dismounted the motorcycle in front of CRIPPLED.

"Mm,hmm," Cameron agreed, reluctant to disentangle her arms from around House's waist. He reached behind him to unhook his cane and her crutch from the newly designed holder, brushing her thigh with his fingertips. She sighed against his neck, causing a ripple of goose bumps to erupt on his skin.

Abandoning their luggage, House and Cameron stumbled into CRIPPLED as best two …well, two cripples could while trying to walk and remove each other's clothing at the same time. Luckily they hadn't gotten very far, or very naked, when a horrific wailing interrupted them.

_Love me tender,  
love me true,  
all my dreams fulfilled.  
For my darlin' I love you,  
and I always will._

"What is that noise?" Cameron asked, covering her ears in pain.

"Wilson," House growled.

At that auspicious moment, Wilson stepped out of the elevator leading to the sleeping areas of CRIPPLED and spotted the rapidly-losing-their-happy couple. He broke off his singing and launched himself at them.

"House! Cameron! Welcome back! It's good to see you. Did you have a wonderful time? Do you have pictures? Here, let me get your luggage," he brushed past House & Cameron to get their bags from the motorcycle's sidecar.

"Wilson, what are you doing here?" House demanded as Wilson loaded himself down with suitcases.

"Oh, I was just looking in on the lab for you," Wilson answered, avoiding eye contact as he walked back past House and into the lab. House and Cameron followed.

"You wouldn't have happened to do any paperwork while you were here? Maybe filled out a few quarterly reports?" House asked hopefully.

"No, but I did manage to find your desk under the mountain of papers. You might actually find the information you need to finish a report now," Wilson said as he lined their suitcases up by size against the wall.

"Uh, huh," House said, observing Wilson's fussing with interested amusement.

"And I cleaned the fridge out and caught up your laundry," Wilson continued, nudging each suitcase with the tip of his polished loafers so that they all touched the wall evenly.

"Right," House drawled, knowing exactly where this was leading and waiting for Cameron to fall into the trap. _Any second now, _he though, _three, two …_

"Wilson, shouldn't you be back at PPTH with Dr. Cuddy?" Cameron asked. House rolled his eyes. He could set his watch by these two, they were so predictable. "I'm sure she must need help getting acclimated. Taking over after Lord Vogler's …. sudden departure."

"Oh, yeah, that, well…She's actually taken on the job quite easily. It's almost like she was born to be an administrator. She loves the job so much, in fact, that I hardly ever get to see her. And when she is home, well it's a lot of stress, I'm sure she doesn't mean to be so moody, but…" Wilson let his voice trail off, and House knew what was coming next. "So, anyway, I thought maybe I could stay here for a few days."

"Oh," Cameron blurted. "Oh." She looked to House, but as usual when it came to matters of tact and gently considering someone else's feelings, he was no help. "Well, Wilson, you know we're always happy to see you, but …"

"There are certain things that we'd prefer to have some privacy about," House said, casting a lusty gaze in Cameron's direction that went clear over Wilson's head.

"Sure, I mean you'd have your days together at home anyway, I mean while I was at the hospital, and I really could just stay in my room," Wilson babbled.

"Allison and I just came back from our honeymoon. You remember those don't you?" House said pointedly.

"Yes, three honeymoons were more than enough for them to be burned into my memory, House, thanks," Wilson snarked.

"Then you remember what the honeymoon phase of the relationship was mostly about," House continued, since Wilson was obviously not getting the point.

"You mean besides the overpriced hotels and ridiculous trinkets and the dozens upon dozens of pictures smiling in front of some statue or building you can't remember the name of when you get home?" Wilson asked.

"Sex, Wilson. The honeymoon phase is about sex. We're going to be having sex. A lot. All the time. Every night. For hours," House said. Cameron blushed from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. Wilson stood in open-mouthed horror. "She's a screamer."

"Okay, I'll just be going then," Wilson choked out and practically ran to the door.

"House!" Cameron chastised when the door had slammed shut in Wilson's wake.

"What?" House asked, hooking his cane on the nearest doorknob. "He's gone isn't he? And now I can get busy proving myself right."

"About what?" Cameron asked, already succumbing to his will as he advanced on her.

"That you're a screamer," House murmured as he brushed his lips against her ear. Cameron's eyes slid closed and House opened his mouth to whisper something dirty to her …

"Wilson!" he shouted directly into her ear. Cameron screamed and jumped back, tripping over her own crutch and falling gracelessly to the floor.

"I know, I know, endless shagging," Wilson said as he stepped through the door fully. "But ….oh my god, she's on the floor already! What do you want me to tell the guys outside?"

"What guys?" Cameron asked as she righted herself.

Wilson opened the door to reveal a dozen sharply dressed soldiers, each with a silver sword held against his shoulder glinting in the mid-afternoon sun. House paled beneath his stubble.

The soldier wearing the most medals on his chest sheathed his sword and withdrew an official looking document from within the deep reaches of his dress coat.

"Dr. Gregory House, M.D.

Lord General John House and Lady Blythe House request the honor of your presence at a reception to celebrate your recent nuptials, at which time we will be pleased to make the acquaintance of your bride.

Cordially,

Lord General John House, Military Advisor to King Bertram of Cape Wooster, and Lady Blythe House"

"Lord and Lady House?" Cameron questioned.

"Mom and Dad," House growled.

"Oops," Wilson squeaked.

As the group of soldiers marched off back into the distance from whence they came, House rounded on Wilson.

"And how, exactly, did my parents find out about my wedding and have time to plan a reception?" House demanded, poking Wilson in the chest with his cane at various intervals to emphasize his displeasure.

"Oh, well, Blythe called to check in on you because she hadn't heard from you in a while, and I happened to answer the phone and well, you know you can't lie to her …she asked me if you'd been up to anything new and …what could I say?" Wilson stammered.

"You could have avoided having to _say_ anything by not answering my phone!" House shouted.

"You weren't planning on telling your parents you got married?" Cameron asked quietly.

"No, actually, I wasn't," House answered, limping back toward the door.

"Wait a minute," Cameron said, grabbing his cane on its backswing and yanking him toward her. "You weren't going to tell your parents about me?"

"Allison, it's nothing to do with you," House said softly. "I just, my parents and I don't exactly …trust me, it's a bad idea."

"Well I want to meet my in-laws," Cameron said, jutting out her jaw in defiance.

"They're not _your _anything, they're _my _parents," House argued.

Wilson watched back and forth, vacillating between concerned and amused at the couple's first real fight.

"They're my in-laws, that makes them part of my family," Cameron insisted.

"And who said we were all going to be a family?" House demanded.

"Um, _you _did, when you _married_ me," Cameron shouted.

"Well there's some fine print for you," House grumbled. "Look we're not going."

"I say we _are_ going," Cameron snarled.

"I'd love to see Blythe again," Wilson interjected.

"We're not going, and that's final," House asserted.

**_... by jellybean30_**


	3. Ch 3: Going Home

_**A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 2**_

_**Chapter 3: Going Home**_

House scowled as he watched Wilson carry yet another bag out to the rented mini-van. As if going home to visit his parents, and having to bring along the world's biggest chatter box weren't bad enough, he couldn't even take his motorcycle. He wasn't sure exactly when or how it had happened, but very shortly after he had proclaimed in no uncertain terms that they would most definitely _not_ be visiting Cape Wooster, Wilson and Cameron had begun planning the trip. It was at that moment, standing in his kitchen while his wife called his mother to accept their invitation, that House realized just how much things were going to change. His life was no longer solely his own.

And the minivan was turquoise.

House limped morosely outside to lean against the offensive vehicle while Wilson arranged the last of the baggage in the rear. He sneered. He knew the drive to Cape Wooster was an arduous trip. That wasn't heading his list of reasons not to go, but it certainly ranked in the top ten. However, the relative comfort offered by the van was completely outweighed by its severe lack of cool. House shook his head. It wouldn't matter if they'd rented Grave Digger, whatever vehicle was transporting him to see his father was only slightly more desirable than a funeral hack.

"What about my research?" House asked suddenly. He reasoned that Cameron wouldn't be willing to abandon his research and possibly delay the discovery of a cure for lupus just to meet her in-laws. "Some of my experiments are time sensitive. I'd hate to see all those patients' suffering prolonged because we were on vacation."

"Not to worry, sweetheart," Cameron replied instantly. "Dr. Cuddy was able to get us a few of the doctors who were working at Dewey Screwem. They were thrilled to get the chance to work for you."

House slumped against the minivan's turquoise hood, defeated. At that very moment, a pair of beige sedans pulled into the drive at CRIPPLED. Eight doors opened and just like clown cars at the circus, people poured forth. Cameron recognized one of the young doctors from Dewey Screwem. Thirteen was his name was. Or her name. Cameron had never really been sure and had been too polite to ask.

"Hi," one of the young doctors said. "You House?"

House nodded. The younger man waited a beat before continuing. "Okay, I'm Kutner." He waved behind him at the rest of the gang. "That's Thirteen, Henry, Taub, Amber and Cole."

"Why are you telling me this?" House asked.

Kutner looked confused, but was rescued by Wilson who ushered the group inside. Cameron made one or two last trips in and out before settling into the passenger seat. Wilson finally came out and climbed into one of the captain's chairs in the middle row.

Reluctantly, House climbed into the driver's seat, making sure to whack Wilson on the shins as he laid his cane on the floor behind him. He engaged the engine and let the van roll slowly down the drive. He paused at the end, gazing longingly at CRIPPLED in the rearview mirror, before pulling onto the road to being their journey.

oOoOo

_Sixty-eight bottles of beer on the wall  
__Sixty-eight bottles of beer  
__You take one down, pass it around  
__Sixty-seven bottles of beer on the wall_

"Wilson, if you make it to fifty, I'm pulling over and beating you to death with Allison's crutch," House said in low tone.

"Why not your cane?" Wilson asked.

"Her crutch is metal, it won't snap as easily," House explained.

"Are we there yet?" Wilson asked.

"No," House answered.

"It's going to be hours, Wilson," Cameron said in what she hoped was a calm voice. Truth be told, Wilson's singing was a bit annoying.

oOoOo

_But he's got high hopes  
__He's got high hopes  
__He's got high apple pie in the sky hopes_

"Wilson!" House shouted.

"Sorry," Wilson mumbled. He sighed. "Are we there yet?"

"No," Cameron said, less gently than the last time.

"Why don't you try getting some sleep?" House suggested through clenched teeth.

"You know I get motion sickness if I sleep in the car," Wilson protested.

"It'd be better than your singing," House grumbled.

"Greg," Cameron scolded.

oOoOo

_It's a world of laughter, a world of tears  
__It's a world of hope, and a world of fear_

"There are going to be tears if you can't stop that wailing," House threatened. Even Cameron gritted her teeth to bite back a harsh comment.

"Are we there yet?" Wilson asked again.

"No," Cameron clipped out.

"Well how much longer?"

"Ten minutes less than the last time you asked," she answered with a forced politeness that made House want to gag.

"Sorry," Wilson sighed.

oOoOo

_Green acres is the place for me  
__Farm livin' is the life for me_

"WILSON!" House and Cameron shouted.

"Sorry!" Wilson shouted back. "I'm just so darned bored."

"Well, find some way to entertain yourself," House growled.

"That doesn't involve singing," Cameron tacked on.

Wilson sat quietly for a few minutes. Cameron let her eyes close as she leaned back in the seat. House felt some of the tension begin to bleed from his shoulders.

And then the tapping commenced.

_Tap_

_Tap, tap_

_Tap … tap, tap…tap, tap, tap_

House gritted his teeth.

Cameron cringed.

The tapping stopped.

……

_Tip, tip, tap_

House hunched his shoulders and white-knuckled the steering wheel.

The tapping stopped.

……

_Tap, tip-tap, tippity-tappity_

"AAAHHH!!" House shouted. "For five minutes, could you not be yourself for five minutes?"

Wilson froze.

House and Cameron exchanged glances.

_Tip-tap_

"WILSON!"

"Are we there yet?"

"Yes, actually, we are," Cameron cried.

_**... by jellybean30**_


	4. Ch 4: The Kingdom of Cape Wooster, Pt 1

_**A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 2**_

_**Chapter 4: The Kingdom of Cape Wooster, Part 1**_

House could feel the dread building from the instant the nose of the turquoise beast passed the sign welcoming him to The Kingdom of Cape Wooster. As they crested the final hill, he heard Cameron gasp beside him. He glanced at her, and had to sigh. As much as he hated visiting here, he couldn't deny the view was spectacular. Nestled among the hills on three sides, Cape Wooster was bound on the fourth side by the sea. The shore line was famous, one of the best known in the world and at first glance, he could tell Cameron was awed.

House glowered as their drive through the center of the capital city of New London toward King Bertram's castle only charmed her further. Wilson too, although not a stranger to this place, gazed with something like wonder at the passing scenery.

House despised New London. It reminded him of everything he hated about the superficial trappings of modern life and why he'd retreated to his beloved marsh lands to begin with. As he watched Cameron barely containing her oohs and aahs, he couldn't help but wonder if she wouldn't be happier with this kind of life.

The central part of the city was designed to resemble the quaint seaside towns of old. The buildings were closely spaced and adorned with white-washed wood shingles. The windows of the shops were decorated with pale blue shutters, artfully distressed to appear weather-worn. In some of the smaller store fronts, window boxes of flowers completed the look. The sidewalks were lined with old-fashioned street lamps of black cast iron and dotted with the occasional park bench.

For House, signs like Abercrombie & Fitch and Sharper Image detracted from the image the city projected. Cameron didn't seem to care.

As House piloted the mini-van up the main street, the castle loomed ominously in the distance. Well, it loomed ominously for House. To Cameron, it looked more like the castle was watching protectively over the city. Wilson was far too busy watching the young ladies who were shopping to notice the castle at all.

When the mini-van passed the last of the buildings, a convoy of military police vehicles surrounded them to provide an escort. Wilson and Cameron looked suitably impressed. House felt oppressed by his father's presence already.

"Wow," Wilson breathed.

"We're definitely not in the swamp anymore," House mumbled.

The convoy continued up the road until the shadow of the castle dimmed the view of the landscape. The vehicles continued past the castle proper to a large, but by comparison much more modest, home on the grounds. They slowed to a halt and the occupants of the escort vehicles disembarked and fell into ranks leading from the mini-van to the house's front doors, where Cameron could see a couple waiting.

They were obviously House's parents, and at first glance Cameron wondered if maybe he had been right about this visit. His mother seemed very pleasant, if first impressions counted. But it was his father who concerned Cameron. Six feet tall if an inch, standing ramrod straight and wearing a highly intimidating dress uniform, he was not exactly a welcoming figure.

House recognized the heavily medaled soldier who had so pompously delivered their invitation when he stepped forward from the ranks to announce their arrival.

"Sir! Dr. Gregory House and guests arriving, Sir," he barked and stepped back.

"This is it," House said to Cameron.

"This is it," John said to Blythe.

House exited the mini-van first and walked around to open the door for Cameron while she managed her crutch. As a result, she was blocked from John and Blythe's view until she was out of the van and she and House began limping their way toward the house.

Blythe's surprised gasp carried very effectively over the soldier's well-trained silence. House and Cameron paused. Wilson slid open the back door of the van and poked his head out. He shivered at the incredibly tense vibe.

"Why don't you guys go ahead and I'll just park the car," he simpered and slid the door shut before scrambling into the driver's seat and speeding off.

"So," House said, lacing his fingers defiantly with Cameron's, "you still think this was a good idea?"

"Yes," Cameron insisted, although she wasn't feeling nearly as confident as she sounded. "Look, your mother looks happy to see us."

"Who on earth is that?" John asked quietly.

"I think that's our new daughter in law," Blythe said as sensibly as possible. She couldn't imagine that no one had thought to mention her condition.

"Where on earth did he find her? 1-800-CRIPPLES?" John asked. "How are the two of them going to manage a life together?"

"Well, Greg may not be a Prince Charming," Blythe answered as she stepped down the few stairs from the house and onto the path with John following reluctantly behind her, "but they do look…"

"Happy now?" House asked Cameron as he noticed her squeezing his hand just a little tighter. "We saw them. Let's go now before he gives the order to open fire."

"Greg, don't be silly. They're your parents," Cameron said.

"Hello? Have you met me? Harsh and unrelenting. Where do you think that comes from?" House seethed.

Cameron limped slightly slower. "I'm sure they must have thought it was for your own …"

"Good!" John whispered in his wife's ear. He watched as House and his bride limped painfully up the path toward the house. "Here's our chance. Let's go back inside and pretend we're not home."

"John!" Blythe reprimanded. "We have to be…"

"Quick," House pleaded, "While they're not looking we can make a run for it."

"No we can't," Cameron spat. She purposely dug the tip of her crutch into the top of his sneaker on her next step. "Now stop it! Everything's going to be…"

"A disgrace!" John hissed, dragging his feet slightly behind Blythe, despite her gentle tugging on his arm. "There is no way …"

"You can do this," Cameron reassured House as his parents got nearer.

"But I really…" House whined.

"really don't…" John muttered.

"want to…"

The two couples met at the mid-way point of the path. There was a completely silent and ridiculously tense moment while the four regarded each other before…

"Mr. and Mrs. House, it's lovely to meet you," Cameron said and smiled.

"That's Lord General House," John said stiffly.

"Well, it's easy to see where Greg gets his charm from," Cameron deadpanned. House smirked. Blythe sighed.

This was going to be a hell of a visit.

_**... by jellybean30**_


	5. Ch 4: The Kingdom of Cape Wooster, Pt 2

_**A Tale by the Sisters Hameron – Book 2**_

_**Chapter 4: The Kingdom of Cape Wooster, Part 2**_

House sat stiffly in the formal dining room, white knuckling his way through the most uncomfortable meal he'd suffered since the last time he'd been forced to entertain donors while he was still working at PPTH. They'd already managed to navigate the cheese course, and were now waiting tensely for the salad to be served.

He looked around and sighed. Decorated in dark, mahogany wood paneling and forest green wallpaper, the room reminded House of a cave. But while a cave was somewhere you might seek shelter, there was nothing about this room that suggested comfort or safety. Wall sconces of shiny brass flickered with mock candlelight, but did nothing to improve the room's feel. Coupled with the ostentatious chandelier dangling above the dining table, the sconces were all but ineffectual against the darkness. Rather than what House supposed to be the desired effect of making the room seem warm and inviting, the dim light only served to make the darkness all the more overpowering and oppressive.

Cameron shifted uneasily in her high-backed dining chair. The room was obviously not designed for comfort, and she could feel the miles they'd traveled beginning to take their toll on her hip. She could only imagine how sore Greg's leg must be, pressing against the sharp angles of the wooden chairs without so much as a cushion for padding.

Compounding her physical discomfort was the underlying tension in the room. She glanced to her left at Greg, seated at the foot of the table, too far away to even give his hand an encouraging squeeze. Across from Cameron was Blythe, and although she seemed perfectly pleasant, hers was still an unfamiliar face. Cameron hardly dared to look to her right, where John was seated at the head of the table, opposite Greg. The vibe coming from that man was negative with a capital 'N'. Cameron wondered how they'd ever survive this meal, let alone an entire visit, before someone snapped.

"What do you mean there aren't enough places set?" a voice interrupted the thunderous quiet of the dining room. Cameron breathed a sigh of relief, at least Wilson would be another friendly face. House, on the other hand, sighed in defeat. Wilson would surely say something that would peak his father's interest and force them to actually speak to each other.

Wilson walked into the dining room and pulled an extra chair from the corner to the table next to Blythe.

"James, I hadn't realized you were here with Greg, how lovely to see you again," Blythe said warmly. She leaned over to place a friendly kiss on Wilson's cheek. Just hearing the welcome in her voice Cameron relaxed a tiny bit. This couldn't be all bad.

"Well, I was taking care of the car and bags, you know, just trying to make things a little easier for the happy couple," Wilson said, returning Blythe's embrace. He turned then to John. "Lord General."

"Dr. Wilson."

The door from the kitchen swung open and the butler, Jeeves, entered carrying a place setting for Wilson. He arranged the plates and utensils quickly and expertly, with nothing more than a discreetly mumbled "My apologies, sir" to announce his presence. Two members of the wait staff followed closely behind and laid down the salad course for the diners.

"So, Greg, tell us about where you and Allison will be living," Blythe said in an effort to get some sort of conversation going, no matter how inane.

"At CRIPPLED. Allison will be helping me with my research," House said, glancing at her in hopes she'd engage his mother with some small talk.

"You're still living in that swamp?" John said disgustedly. "I'm sure it's fine for you, but it's hardly a place for a delicate young lady."

"She's not all that delicate when it comes to…"

"Greg!" Cameron shouted. She looked apologetically at Blythe, who merely ignored her son's lack of decorum. "The swamp is the perfect place for Greg and me to work on the lupus research."

"You and Gregory?" John sneered. "It's not as though you'll actually be doing the research. More like his paperwork and house cleaning."

"Actually, _Dad,_" House sneered, "Allison is also a doctor and she's been researching lupus on her own for several years."

"Allison, I had no idea," Blythe jumped in before John could reply. "When James told me that Greg had married a princess, well I just never thought that you'd also have a career. How lovely for you."

"Thank you," Cameron replied. "I was never really comfortable with the idea of people suffering and not trying to …"

"Did you say princess?" John interrupted rudely.

"Yes, that's right," House said. "She's a princess, and a doctor, and incredibly hot. Not bad for a bitter, old cripple."

"John, darling, I'm sure I mentioned that to you," Blythe jumped in, hoping to distract John before he could snap at Greg. "He's been so busy with work lately," she said apologetically to everyone else.

"Princess Doctor Allison …." John said, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

"Cameron," Wilson offered.

"Dinner is served," Jeeves announced as he entered from the kitchen. Two of the wait staff cleared the salad plates while several others, including the chef, filled the table with plates of ham, roast beef, a turkey and dishes upon dishes of vegetables.

"Princess Doctor Allison Cameron," John repeated as he grabbed a caving knife and began angrily slicing the turkey.

"That's right," Cameron said meekly, sensing something was amiss but not knowing what it was.

"From Far, Far Away? Heir to the throne of King Harold and Queen Lillian," John continued as he hacked off a drumstick and plopped it onto his plate.

"Yeah, so what?" House asked warily. His father was making some sort of point, he just didn't know what it was.

"Nothing," John said, driving the carving knife deep into the carcass of the bird and sitting down again without serving anyone else. He began to pick listlessly at his food, and Cameron thought she recognized a look on his face similar to Greg's when he was trying to figure something out.

"Lady House, you have a lovely home here," Cameron said timidly, since so far she didn't find anything about particularly lovely at all.

"Oh thank you, Allison. And please, don't be so formal, it's Blythe. It's not exactly my personal taste, but with John's position here we had to maintain a lot of the more formal décor," Blythe said with a smile.

"Lord John, have you lived here long?" Cameron asked, ignoring the pointed silence from the two ends of the table as Greg and John stared each other down between bites and trying to draw the men into conversation.

"It's Lord General," John corrected her coolly. House bristled and Cameron held her breath waiting for the inevitable biting remark.

"Oh about ten years now," Blythe answered before House could verbally assault anyone.

"So Greg didn't grow up here?" Cameron asked, picking at her roast beef and feeling less and less hungry as the stares between Greg and John became more and more obvious.

"Oh no," Blythe laughed nervously as she spoke. "John's work for the Marines took him all over the world, and us along with him."

"Do you think that swamp is going to be a proper place for you to be raising children?" John finally spoke.

Cameron turned to answer him, but was distracted by Greg's choking on his dinner. She turned to see his face an alarming shade of red creeping over a ghastly pale. Had the idea of children scared him so badly?

"It's a little early to be thinking about that isn't it?" House managed to choke out. Cameron looked at Blythe and Wilson with embarrassment, too angry to look at John and too hurt to look at Greg.

"Maybe for Princess Allison, but you're practically breathing down retirement's neck," John sniped.

"John!" Blythe gasped.

"Never mind your age, how do you think the two of you could manage a baby?" John persisted.

"We'd manage just fine," House seethed, and Cameron could tell he was reaching his breaking point. She shared a distressed look with Blythe.

"Really? You couldn't even manage this trip without your lap dog tagging along," John snapped, jerking his head in Wilson's direction and slamming his hand down on the table.

"At least I have someone who's loyal to me because he cares, not because he's been frightened or beaten into it," House retaliated.

"Greg!"

"Allison!"

"John!"

John stood at his place. Not about to be outdone in any way, House stood as well. Cameron closed her eyes and hoped for something, anything, to stop them.

"I only did what was best for you. You're not a father, you wouldn't understand," John said coldly.

"The only thing I understand is you've given me a perfect plan for how _not_ to be a dad," House said, slamming his cane on the table.

"Stop it!" Cameron shouted. She couldn't stand listening to this any more. She pushed herself clumsily away from the table and crutched her way from the room as quickly as she could. She retreated to the spare bedroom where their things had been placed and slumped against the door in tears as it closed behind her.

_**... by jellybean30**_


	6. Ch 5: The Fairy Godmother, Pt 1

_**A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 2**_

_**Chapter 5: The Fairy Godmother, Part 1**_

Cameron walked through the bedroom and onto the balcony. Overlooking New London, the scene before her was idyllic in every respect. If only things in her own life were so perfect. Cameron watched sadly as the sun set and the lights of the city began to sparkle. She and House had watched the sunset together every night since their wedding; Cameron had never truly appreciated the beauty of a sunset, so filled with fear as she had always been. Now, watching the sunset alone, the sadness made it just as hard to appreciate.

A few lonely tears slipped down her cheeks and onto the stone railing surrounding the balcony. Cameron watched in wonder as the tears transformed into bubbles and floated around her. She looked up and saw the sky above was completely filled with similar bubbles. And faintly she could hear … singing?

Stacy sighed as she floated toward her mark. It was a cool spell; even she wasn't so jaded as to deny that, but the singing. Oh how she hated the singing. Eventually she would do away with it all together, but while people were still getting used to a new Fairy Godmother some things had to remain the same.

Stacy sang as she floated inside a large bubble down to the balcony. It was a just a levitation spell, but the bubbles did add a sort of mystical quality. And for whatever reason, the bubbles made people happy.

_Your poor tears have called to me  
__So here comes my sweet remedy  
__I know what every princess needs  
__For her to live life happily_

"Oh," Stacy was startled when she finally focused on Cameron and her bubble burst, dropping her the last few inches to the balcony in a less than graceful entrance. She stared rudely at Cameron's crutch and leaning posture. So, this was the curse, but if she was already married it should have been broken. What had gone wrong? Was her new husband not really her true love? That would certainly make Stacy's job easier.

"Oh, look at you, dear, all dressed up," Stacy fumbled stupidly when she realized she was staring.

Cameron looked at her in bewilderment. She was lovely, with her dark hair and crisp white suit. She smiled kindly enough, but somehow it didn't quite reach her eyes. And she seemed oddly familiar…

"Do I know you?" Cameron asked.

"Why, dearest, I'm your Fairy Godmother," Stacy replied as sweetly as she could, even exaggerating her slight drawling accent. Of course Cameron knew her. They'd not been formally introduced, but Stacy had been there during Vogler's downfall. She was hoping the confusion and emotions of the day would cloud her small part from Cameron's memory.

"I have a Fairy Godmother?"

"Sssh," Stacy shushed her. Too many questions were always bad news. "I'm here to make it all better. She took Cameron by the hand and led her inside. The fewer people who heard her singing the better.

_With just a wave of my magic wand  
__Your troubles will soon be gone  
__With a flick of the wrist and just a flash  
__You'll land a prince with a ton of cash_

"Wait, what?" Cameron stuttered.

"Is it the singing?" Stacy asked hopefully. "I don't blame you, I'm not a fan of the singing myself, but you know how image and appearance can be to so important to some people." Stacy looked ashamedly at Cameron's crutch when she realized what she'd just said. "Aren't we lucky that we can see past all that?"

She pulled a wand out of the air and waved it. A desk and chairs appeared in the middle of the bedroom. Stacy seated herself behind the desk and with a quick flick of her wand was wearing a pair of reading glasses and perusing some paperwork.

"Standard operating procedure for a princess getting married consists of a long courtship by someone of equal or greater rank, generally one with a kingdom of his own or a kingdom to be inherited, complete with castle, palace or other suitable living accommodations."

Cameron blinked while the Fairy Godmother rattled off details about a princess's marriage as if they were items on a grocery list.

"Now, cursed princesses can get a bit more complicated, naturally. You've got a whole slew of personality traits specific to the prince in question: bravery, sense of adventure, must be able to ride a horse, some sort of fighting skills, preferably with weapons training and, of course, the requisite dragon slaying."

"Once all these requirements have been met," Stacy paused and tilted her head to the side as if she was listening for something. She shook her head. "Once all these requirements have …" She rolled back her chair to find a small, white dog that had apparently been trapped beneath the furniture she had conjured. She picked the dog up and handed it absently to Cameron. "Is this a bichon frise?"

"Yes, this is Macintosh, he belongs to my mother-in-law," Cameron replied. Stacy returned to her paperwork while Cameron nuzzled the dog before letting him down to scamper off to a far corner of the bedroom.

"Excuse me, Fairy Godmother, but what about love?" Cameron asked softly.

"What's love got to do with it?" Stacy asked in return. "We're talking about marriage. As I was saying, cursed princesses, once rescued, should expect that their respective curses will be broken and things return to normal." Stacy paused and looked pointedly at Cameron's crutch over the rims of her spectacles.

Cameron looked down at her crutch as well. It was true, the curse hadn't been broken in the way she had expected, but sometimes true love required sacrifice.

A pair of decidedly male voices began echoing loudly in the hall outside the bedroom.

"Dammit, Wilson, I don't care that the guest bedroom has little seashell shaped soaps in the bathroom!"

"How is it even possible Blythe is your mother?"

Stacy paled. She recognized that voice. Wilson. As in Dr. James Wilson, Head of Oncology at PPTH. The very same Dr. James Wilson she had helped Vogler trump up false sexual harassment charges against. She had to get out of here, and fast.

"That's my husband," Cameron said slowly. "He's had a very long day, and …"

"It's all right dear," Stacy said. She flicked her wand and the desk and chairs disappeared. "Just remember if you should ever need me, happiness is just a tear drop away." She held out a business card to Cameron.

"Allison," House's voice interrupted her thoughts as he knocked once on the bedroom door before entering with Wilson. Cameron turned and pasted on a falsely cheerful smile, hoping to stop Greg before he could say something rude to her Fairy Godmother.

The bichon frise immediately scurried over and began expressing his affection against House's leg. House sighed. "Hello Macintosh."

"I'll just, well, he must have missed you," Wilson stammered as he removed the dog from House's leg.

"Fairy Godmother, I'd like to introduce my husband, Dr. Gregory House, and our friend Dr. Jame…" Cameron's voice trailed off. She looked around the room, but her Fairy Godmother was gone, leaving only the faintest trail of glittering pink dust and a few stray bubbles in her wake.

"Fairy Godmother?" House asked. He looked around the room, empty but for the three of them, plus dog. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, she was right here," Cameron said. House and Wilson exchanged a quick glance, but not quick enough to get past Cameron. "Look! She gave me her business card." She thrust it at them.

House took the card from Cameron. "Happiness…a teardrop away. "No thanks, I've got all the happiness I can stand. Happy, happy, happy," he grumbled.

"She was just trying to help," Cameron said.

"Then she should have stuck around to help Wilson carry the bags," House sneered.

"Bags?" Wilson asked.

"We're leaving?" Cameron asked. "When did you decide this?"

"Honestly, about a minute and a half after we arrived," House said. He turned his back on the rest of the room and began piling up clothes from the nearest dresser to be packed.

On the balcony, Stacy hid in the shadows, taking inventory of the ice blue eyes and lanky figure attached to the cane that made this all so clear. "House is the _husband?_ Well, I can see where the curse-breaking went wrong." She climbed silently into the black limousine that floated just off the balcony and spoke to the driver. "Let's go Kyle."

"Oh very nice House," Cameron said sharply as he continued packing.

"I'm not nice. Why does that continue to surprise people?" House shot back at her.

"Now that I've met your father, it surprises me a lot less," Cameron mumbled.

House turned and gave Cameron a look of such venom and such pain that she was momentarily stunned out of being angry with him.

"You could have at least _tried_ to be civil to your father," Cameron sighed.

"And I also could have tried to gouge his eyes out with my soup spoon, but things don't always work out the way you want," House snarked.

"Did you ever think it might be nice if someone asked me about what I want?" Cameron shouted.

"Sure, do you want to pack, or do you want Wilson to do it for you?" House asked with a saccharine tone that made Cameron want to scream.

"You! You are acting like such a, such a …"

"Go ahead, say it," House taunted her.

"Such a House!"

House limped across the bedroom to stand nose to nose with Cameron. "That's because I am a House. And guess what, _Princess_, that's not about to change," he said in a deadly calm but ridiculously frightening voice. Wilson shivered.

"I've made changes for you Greg. Think about that," Cameron whispered and slipped past him out the door and into the hall.

"Oh real smooth, House," Wilson said as he scooped up the dog, who was now whimpering from all the yelling. "Sometimes you can be a real ogre, you know that?" And with that Wilson took the trembling little pooch and left.

House sat heavily on the bed. "Yeah, I know," he told the empty room.

**_... by jellybean30_**


	7. Ch 5: The Fairy Godmother, Pt 2

_**A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 2**_

_**Chapter 5: The Fairy Godmother, Part 2**_

"I knew this would happen," John grumbled as he tread a well-worth path in the carpet of his bedroom.

"You should, you started it," Blythe replied calmly without looking up from the book she was trying to read in bed.

"Oh please, Blythe, I can hardly believe that. He was gunning for me from the moment he arrived," John seethed at her as passed the foot of the bed for the thousandth time since they had retired to their room.

"John, I think you're taking this entirely too personally. Greg would have been upset with anyone who suggested he couldn't take care of his wife," Blythe said calmly.

"She shouldn't be his wife at all!" John shouted, gesticulating now as he stopped in his tracks. "She's supposed to be married to Prince Robert. It's always been assumed that Prince Robert and Princess Allison would marry when the time was right. Do you have any idea how difficult it's going to be to arrange a stable military alliance between King Bertram and King Harold now that Princess Allison is married to someone else? And how completely impossible it's going to be for _me_ to negotiate between them when it's _my_ son who's stolen her away?!"

"It's not about you, John," Blythe said, finally laying her book down in her lap. "It's about Greg and Allison and it's their choice."

"And so I should just ignore the potentially fatal blow this will be to my career and give them my blessing?" John sniped.

"Greg will never forgive you if you don't. When was the last time you knew him to show such emotion about someone? About anything? John, he could be happy and he'll only be hurt if you try to take that away from him."

John sighed.

"Haven't we spent enough time being estranged from each other? I don't want to spend another ten years without him in my life," Blythe sighed too. "Oh John, you act as though love is completely predictable and something you can plan. Don't you remember when we were young and in love? We used to walk on the seashore and collect shells," Blythe's voice trailed off.

"Our first kiss," John sighed again. "It's not the same! I don't think you realize that our son has married this girl and crippled her for life!"

"Oh stop being such a drama queen," Blythe snapped, utterly frustrated with John's irascible attitude.

"Oh fine," John blustered as he began pacing toward the open balcony doors. "Just pretend everything is wonderful," he snarked as he twirled around to mock Blythe's naiveté as he backed out onto the balcony. "La-di-da-da. I don't see how things could get any worse."

At that moment, a sleek black limousine floated down from the sky above and hovered just off the balcony. The back door opened and a slim, dark haired woman leaned out and addressed him.

"Lord General House," she said.

"Yes?" John replied, perplexed as to who this woman could be.

"I'm the new Fairy Godmother," Stacy said with a smirk.

"Ah!" John yelped. He was a Marine, tough as nails, unrelenting and fearless. But the name Fairy Godmother had him quaking in his slippers.

"What happened?" Blythe called to him from inside the bedroom.

"Oh nothing, nothing," John lied, poking his head back into the room and smiling at her. "Just that old Inchon wound playing up. I'll just stretch it out here for a bit," John babbled as he stepped back onto the balcony, drawing the doors closed behind him.

"Aren't you a bit young to be the new Fairy Godmother?" John asked diplomatically.

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Get in," Stacy ordered.

"We've got house guests at the moment, Fairy Godmother, I'd be a terrible host if I just flitted off…" he paused as one of the middle windows of the limousine was lowered to reveal two very burly associates of Stacy's. He wasn't afraid of a fight, he never had been, but it would upset Blythe and she was upset with him already.

He climbed into the limo reluctantly and took the seat across from Stacy. But the evening's surprises weren't over, for seated next to her was none other than Prince Robert.

"Prince Robert," John greeted him carefully as he felt the limo speed away from the relative safety of the balcony. "I haven't seen you in quite some time. You're looking well. When did you get back?"

"Oh, just a day or so ago, actually," Chase said snidely. "After I endured blistering winds and scorching deserts…"

Stacy interrupted him. "Let me handle this, Prince Robert. He endured blistering winds, scorching deserts, climbed to the tallest room of the tallest tower to find what? A gender confused researcher telling him that _his_ princess is already married."

"It's not my fault," John protested. "He didn't get there in time. Perhaps if King Harold had been more explicit in his instructions to Princess Allison, or had Lord Vogler decided to rescue her himself instead of sending my son …"

"Your son?" Chase asked coldly.

"Uh," John faltered. A lone drop of sweat trickled down the back of his neck.

"Your son is the one who rescued the Princess and then married her," Chase stated flatly. He smirked. "Well, isn't that convenient."

"Actually, it's decidedly inconvenient, Prince Robert," John assured him. "I had no idea who Gregory had married when his mother invited him home. Believe me, if my son had ever bothered to consult me for an opinion …"

"Gregory?" Chase asked, leaning forward in his seat. "Your son is Gregory House? Well that's just perfect."

"Do you know him?" Stacy asked, curious to learn more about the owner of those ice blue eyes. She knew him by reputation only. The inside scoop was always so much better.

"He used to be my boss, a long time ago at PPTH. He's a real bastard," Chase said, looking directly at John.

"That he is," John agreed.

"Well, since we're all agreed on that point, let's move on, shall we?" Stacy interrupted, trying to regain control of the conversation. "John, you don't mind if I call you John, do you? John, I'm sure I don't need to remind you that you and the Fairy Godmother, whoever is filling that position, made a deal."

"Well, yes, but it was hardly made in good faith, was it? I mean, at the time, I had no way of knowing that one day I'd actually have…"

"You're not seriously trying to talk your way out of a contract with a former lawyer, are you?" Stacy asked, coolly.

"Well, no. Not out of it, exactly, but…"

"You understood the deal that was offered?" Stacy interrupted him.

"Yes, I did," John agreed.

"And you signed said deal and sealed the contract with your own blood, did you not?" Stacy continued.

"Yes," John agreed resignedly. "But I didn't think…"

"Whether or not you _thought_, is not my problem," Stacy snapped. "John, you force me to do something I really don't want to do." She reached into the pocket of her white suit jacket. John and Chase tensed, expecting her to pull out a weapon of some sort. She turned away from the men quickly, and a moment later John recognized the acrid tang of burning tobacco. "My smoking cessation coach will not be pleased with this!" Stacy inhaled deeply on the cigarette, and John watched as some of the tension eased from her body. She turned back to him with determined eyes. "I'm sure you don't really want me to have to void your contract. There could be some very unpleasant consequences."

"No, indeed not," John sighed, the threat clear.

"Good, so Princess Allison and Prince Robert will be married," Stacy demanded.

The limo jerked to a stop. Stacy snapped her fingers and John watched as the door opened and he was suddenly propelled forward onto the balcony.

"But what am I supposed to do about it?" John asked the open door.

Stacy leaned out. Her dark hair curled attractively over her shoulder and her posture revealed a lovely leg that disappeared inside the depths of the limo. "Use your imagination," she drawled. She flicked her cigarette out the open door, pulled it shut and the limo sped off.

**_... by jellybean30_**


	8. Ch 6: The Drones Pub

**_A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 6: "The Drones Pub" **_

"Jeeves, I have an important errand to attend to."  
"Certainly, Lord General House. Shall I awaken Driver?"  
"That won't be necessary. I'll drive myself this evening."  
"Very good, sir.

The Kingdom of Cape Wooster was cloaked in an unsettling darkness as John House cruised along the highway in his black Mercedes. He much preferred his Hummer, but he needed to blend in with the crowd tonight and in a city as wealthy as New London, Mercs were a dime a dozen.

It was well after midnight when he arrived downtown. A heavy rain had begun to fall and the glare of his car's headlights on the wet cobblestone road made the street signs almost impossible to read.

"Ah, there it is … Berkeley Lane."

The restaurants and nightclubs grew increasingly scarce as he drove further down the long twisting road. A modest sign directed him to his destination.

_The Drones Pub_.

He couldn't help but think how unfortunate it was that such a magnificent stone estate, once a fine gentlemen's club, was now home to arguably the most disreputable drinking establishment in the entire Kingdom.

John pulled up the collar of his black trench coat, removed a briefcase from the trunk of his car, then smirked as he wove his way through the crowded parking lot, observing at least six other Mercedes, identical to his, before reaching the front door of the tavern.

He paused nervously on the porch before knocking, praying he would not be recognized.

A small window slid open in the massive wooden door.  
A lone bloodshot brown eye stared back at him.

"Password?"  
"Marsupial."

As the door swung open, John looked at the burly unshaven bouncer with disdain, noting his undershirt stained with barbeque sauce and a gut that had seen more beer than a Guinness brewery. _You wouldn't have survived a single day as one of my Marine recruits …_

"Welcome, Lord General House."  
"You must be mistaken, that isn't my name," he replied, somewhat rattled.

"As you wish," the bouncer said indifferently as he tapped his toes to the strains of "Minnie the Moocher" played by a shady-looking pianist with a prosthetic arm.

A smoky haze hung over the crowded room. The air reeked with the stench of cheap booze, stale tobacco and perspiration. The elder House fought not to gag.

He sidled up to the deserted bar and addressed, what he thought, was a rather large woman in a hideous purple brocade dress.

"Uh … excuse me. I'm looking for the Ugly Stepsister?"  
"That's me. Who wants to know?"

He stared at the curious creature as she turned to face him, unconvinced of the sex of his server.  
The heavy make-up and stylish French braids were accompanied by a rich baritone voice and a distinct lack of breasts.

"I'm John … just John."

"Okay, just John. People like _you_ don't come to a dive like _this_ without a reason. What do you want with me?"

He leaned across the bar and glanced over his shoulder before speaking.  
"I need your help. I have to find someone ... someone who can destroy a marriage for me."

Intrigued, the Ugly Stepsister set down the glass she was drying and hunkered over the bar, scant inches from the Lord General's face.

"Interesting … who's the guy?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Well, he's an odd fellow, really. A misanthropic genius, a loner, lives by a swamp … rather like an ogre …

The room fell silent.  
The crowd gasped in unison.  
"An ogre?"

"Metaphorically speaking," John said, spinning around on his barstool to address the patrons.

"Oh …" A disappointed sigh ran through the room as the crowd resumed their carousing.

"Listen, there's only one guy who can handle a job like this and, frankly, he don't like to be disturbed."

"I'll take my chances. Where can I find him?" John demanded.

The Ugly Stepsister motioned to a door at the rear of the tavern.  
All eyes were upon him as he approached the forbidden door and knocked.

The tiny room was pitch black, save for a beam of moonlight that spilled across the floor from a leaded glass window. He could see no furniture other than a plain wooden desk with two booted feet propped on top of it.

John House was not a man who frightened easily, but he shuddered as the sound of a deep, sinister voice rose from the darkness.

"Who dares to be so bold as to enter my room?"

"My name is Lord General John House. I apologize for disturbing you, but I'm told you are a master of extortion and blackmail, are you not?" He wrung his hands anxiously, hoping he had found the right man for the job.

"You are told correct. I specialize in industrial espionage and medical malpractice and as a sideline, I manage the finest escort service in all of New London. What is it you desire from me?" said the voice in a thick Spanish accent.

"I need you to frame a doctor. The future of this Kingdom depends upon it!" John exclaimed, attempting to convey the urgency of this matter.

"Would you like me to discredit him professionally?"

"No. I don't want to destroy his career, just his marriage. Besides, that would take too long." John knew, deep down, he could never live with himself if he ruined his son's brilliant career.

"If time is of the essence, some photographs of your victim in a compromising position with one of my … ahem … models, would be my recommendation," the voice purred.

"Photographs …." John smiled, knowing Princess Allison would never tolerate an unfaithful husband. "Yes. That will be perfect! When can you start?"

"Soon, very soon. But for a task like this, I charge a great deal of money."

John offered his briefcase.  
"Will this cover your fee?"

The shadowy figure moved out of the darkness, but the whites of his eyes were all the John could see. Suddenly, a gleaming sword slashed across the briefcase, lifting the lid open with its tip.

"One million dollars …" John said quietly, "in unmarked bills."

"You have engaged my valuable services, Lord General House. Just tell me, where shall I find your victim?"  
His satisfaction with the deal was evident in his voice.

"I will arrange for him to meet with you tomorrow morning."

"Very well. And his name?"

"It's House. He's my son. Dr. Gregory House."

**_... by daisyb10_**


	9. Ch 7: Memories

_**A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 2**_

_**Chapter 7: Memories**_

_I've made changes for you, Greg … think about that …think about that …think about that … _

House tossed and turned, unable to sleep.  
He was wracked with guilt over his fight with Cameron.

Her last words to him churned relentlessly in his mind. His heart broke as he remembered the sound of her sobs from outside their bedroom door.

All he ever wanted was to make his Princess happy and he had failed.  
Miserably.

He slipped quietly out of their bed, and looked out the window.  
The iconic sign, _CAPE WOOSTER_, harkened memories of old Hollywood as it shone back at him from high on a hillside overlooking New London.

He fumbled on the night table for his bottle of Vicodin.  
"Wouldn't you know it … empty," he grumbled quietly.  
"Where did we put that new bottle of pills … oh yea, Allison packed it for me in her tote bag."

House reached for his cane and limped across the room, stopping by the fireplace to allow the warmth from its dancing flames to soothe his aching thigh.

Bored, he investigated the knickknacks and bric-a-brac that adorned the mantle, but it was a group of familiar photographs that quickly captured his attention.

"Mom …" he whispered, picking up a gilt-edged frame. Before he met Cameron, House had only known one person's love and devotion. His mother was his rock.

He couldn't help but smile as he looked at the collection of pictures from his youth; rock-climbing in Japan, rowing on the Thames, a camping trip in the Adirondacks and a rare photograph of a sixteen year-old smiling House holding a trophy for the winning run in his high school marathon. He'd forgotten how much he'd enjoyed sports.

House shook his head.

He _hadn't_ forgotten.  
He simply refused to remember.  
There was no point.

_I've made changes for you, Greg … think about it …_

Cameron's words continued to haunt him. The changes she made for him.  
_What have I done to her?_

Logically, House knew Cameron's crippling hip dysplasia was not his fault. It was Vogler that forced him to rescue Cameron from the tower of Dewey Screwem and bring her back to Princeton.

And logically, since he never expected to fall in love, there was no way he could have known that their first kiss would fulfill a horrible curse and turn Cameron into a cripple, just like him.

But logic seldom applies to affairs of the heart.  
As much as House loved Cameron, he couldn't stop wondering what would have happened if another man had rescued her.

A _whole_ man.  
A man who was _not_ a pathetic cripple.  
A man who was _not _Gregory House.

"Enough already with the self-pity. There's her bag," he muttered.

House returned the photographs, just as he'd found them, and lifted Cameron's bag up onto the sofa, unzipping it quietly, so as not to disturb his wife.

He pulled out a small handful of toiletries and clothes and rooted around in the bag until a familiar rattle told him he'd found his Vicodin. As he began to throw everything back in the bag, a small well-worn book slipped into his hand.

"Hmm … wonder what this is?"  
He moved closer to the light and read the golden lettering on its cover.

**_My Diary_ **

House turned to the first page. There, in wobbly printing, using a rainbow of different coloured crayons was Cameron's first entry.

_She must have been very young when she wrote this. …. _he thought, looking at the accompanying drawing of Cameron and her Father, the King, by their palace.

**_Dear Diary, __Sleeping Beauty is having a slumber party tomorrow, _****_but Dad says I can't go.  
__He __never__ lets me out after sunset_**_**!!** _

_Ahh … she's older now …  
_The next entry had a drawing of a bigger girl walking down a road pulling a rolling suitcase behind her.

**_Dad says I'm going away for a while.  
__Must be like some finishing school._**

House turned to the next picture of a young woman beckoning to a knight on a white stallion from high atop the tower of an isolated castle. It was followed by another of Cameron and her Prince, holding hands in front of her family's castle with her parents smiling in the background.

_**Mom says when I'm old enough, my Prince Charming will rescue me from my tower and bring me back to my family and we'll all live happily ever after.**_

He flipped through the diary frantically.  
There were no more pictures.  
Just the same three words, written over and over in the loopy handwriting he had come to know so well.

**Mrs. Allison Charming … Mrs. Allison Charming …. Mrs. Allison Charming … Mrs. Allison Charming … Mrs. Allison Charming … **

House stared at the fire.  
He was shattered.  
"Allison wanted a Prince Charming and ended up with me.  
I really _have_ destroyed her dreams."

Startled by a knock, he laid the diary on the fireplace mantle and opened the bedroom door.

"Sorry to disturb you, um … S-S-Son. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."  
"No, no." House followed his father's gaze to his sleeping wife. "I was just reading a … uh, a scary book."

"I was hoping you'd let me apologize for my despicable behaviour earlier," John began tentatively.  
"Yea, well … you were in fine form tonight," spat House.

_How dare he speak to me in that tone of voice?_ John fumed. _But I must stay calm.  
If I arouse Gregory's suspicions, my plan will never succeed.  
"_Do you suppose we could pretend it never happened and just start over?" he asked, with all the faux sincerity he could muster.

House couldn't rein in his sarcasm.  
"You want us to start over? I don't even know what to call you any more. Let's see … should I call you Father? Lord John? Oh, oh, wait, I know … I forgot. You want to be called Lord General now, don't you?"

"Please, Son. Just call me Dad."

"Okay …" House swallowed hard before uttering the next word. "Dad. Look, we both acted like idiots.  
Maybe we just need to get to know each other again. It's been a long time."

"That's an excellent idea! I was actually hoping you might join me for brunch tomorrow. I have a friend who's very anxious to meet you."

"I don't know. Brunch? With a stranger? You know I'm not much of a people person," House whined, trying his best to weasel his way out of the invitation.

"I know, but I've been telling him about CRIPPLED and what marvelous work you do there and he'd like help fund your Lupus research. The man's a multi-millionaire, Gregory. Think of what he could for you."

John could tell his son was not convinced and pushed harder.

"Look, what's the worst that can happen? Even if you don't hit it off, we'll still have had a little father-son time together, a delicious brunch and an afternoon sail on a luxury yacht."

House's unresponsiveness forced the elder House to pull out his trump card.

"What do you say? I know it would mean the world to Princess Allison and your mother if we could work out our differences."

House had to hand it to his old man. Allison and his mother. He knew exactly what buttons to push. "Alright. I guess it can't hurt to try."

"That's the spirit! I have an early meeting with King Bertram, so I'll meet you there. How does ten o'clock sound?"

"That's fine. But where exactly, is there?"

"Sorry," John said, fishing out a slip of paper from the pocket of his bathrobe. "Here are the directions. Goodnight, Son. I'll see you in the morning."

"Night, Dad."

House pushed the door shut with the tip of his cane as he unfolded the paper his father had given him. He slipped back in bed beside Cameron and quickly skimmed through the directions, but did a double-take when he read the final instruction.

"_Look for_ _La Casa del Gato Negro_ …"

"The Home of the Black Cat? It's a good thing I'm not superstitious!"

**_... by daisyb10_**


	10. Ch 8: Fritz the Cat, Pt 1

**_A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 8: Fritz the Cat, Part 1**_

"Face it, House, we're lost."

House leaned against his father's black Hummer and slid his sunglasses down his nose to facilitate a glare at Wilson.

"Quit whining, Wilson. We're not lost. And even if we were, I'd happily drive for hours in this bitchin' truck.  
I can't believe my old man owns anything this cool!"

"You're going to be in big trouble when your Dad finds out you borrowed it."

"_You're going to be in big trouble when your Dad finds out you borrowed it,"_ mimicked House.  
"Are you ten years old, Wilson? Are you going to tattle on me?"

"There's no way I'm going to drive that soccer mom van you and Allison rented one more second than I have to! And just to put your mind at ease,  
I didn't _borrow_ the Hummer without permission. My Mom gave me the keys."

"Figures," Wilson smirked.  
"But the coolness of this vehicle does nothing to alter the fact that we're lost."

"Wilson, look! There's the signpost! We can't be lost. I followed my father's directions exactly."  
House pulled a MapQuest printout from his pocket. "But if it will make you happy, we'll go over this … _again!"_

"I would have been happy if you'd stopped at that gas station by the highway and asked for help," Wilson said glumly.

"Why would I do that, when I have this?" House said, waving the directions in Wilson's face before he began to read out loud.

"Okay.  
_Take the King's Highway, Eastbound Ramp_. _Merge onto the King's Highway Eastbound Express Lanes.  
_Check.  
_Take the Camino De la Gatería exit, Exit 49,__ towards __El Cuarto Español.  
_Check."

"Are you sure, House? How good is your Spanish?" Wilson questioned.

"_Harrumph_. My Spanish is flawless, as is my Mandarin, Portuguese, French, Hindu, German, Greek and Russian," House said indignantly.  
"Besides, a fifth-grader could translate _Cattery Road_ and the_ Spanish Quarter._ You should be ashamed of yourself, Wilson.  
Don't go auditioning for Jeff Foxworthy!" he cackled

"Ha-ha," Wilson retorted sarcastically. "Just read the rest of the directions."

"_Proceed north on Camino De la Gateria__, p__ast the scary-looking tree shaped like Garfield …"_

"The tree shaped like Garfield? We've passed it three times already!"

"Well, then that's a check … _until you get to a fork in the road_. _You will see a signpost. Look for La Casa del Gato Negro._"

"House of the Black Cat, right?"

"Very good, Wilson. There's hope for you yet. And there's the signpost."  
House said, pointing to a towering white post with a myriad of signs.

"But I don't see a sign for_ La Casa del Gato Negro_. There's everything but."

House raked his fingers trough his hair and sighed with frustration as he re-read every sign on the signpost. "I know. _La Casa del Gato Blanco, La Casa del Gato del Calicó,__ La Casa del Gato del Tabby, __La Casa del Gato del Tom__, __La Casa del Gato Siamés__, __La Casa del Gato Persa _and _La Casa del Gato Anaranjado_.  
I _don't_ understand what's going on. It's not like my father to make a mistake."

"And to make matters worse, we're going to be late," House said angrily.  
"This was my one chance to fix things up with him and I end up lost in Spanish Harlem with you!"

"Don't get huffy with me! I'm only trying to help," Wilson pouted.

"I know! I know. I'm sorry, Wilson. I'm just nervous. When I was a kid, my father used to punish me for dawdling by hitting the back of my hand with a ruler. My fine was one blow for every minute I was late."

_No wonder House is always late … he's still rebelling against his Dad_, Wilson thought.  
"I'm sorry, House. I know he wasn't an easy man to live with."

"Well, at least I can defend myself now. I just need to come to some sort of understanding with him for the sake of Allison and my Mom.  
I'd better call and tell him we're lost."

House flipped his phone open and was about to key in the number, when a gold Corvette roared down the road and pulled to a screeching halt beside them.

They swallowed hard as the car door opened and two impossibly long legs swung out of the driver's seat.

"Hey, Boys …" purred a stunning woman.  
"Nice Hummer. You look like you're lost."

"Well, actually, we …" Wilson grabbed the directions out of House's hand.

"Shut up, Wilson!" growled House.

House limped over to the Corvette and stood face to face with their rescuer.  
She was as tall as him, though somewhat aided by a very high pair of gold platform sandals.

House mentally assessed her appearance as his gaze traveled the glorious path from the top of her head to the tips of her polished toes; long chestnut hair, green eyes, a dazzling smile, full sumptuous breasts and slim shapely hips, clad in the shortest of shorts and a matching khaki blouse.

"I'm Dr. Gregory House. And you are?" House asked, turning on the charm.

"I'm Kitty, Dr. House. My boss sent me here to look for you. And who's this handsome man?" she asked, giving Wilson a seductive smile.

Wilson shoved House aside while extending his hand. "I'm Dr. James Wilson."

"Two doctors. How lucky can a girl get? Oh …" she said, with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Oh?" they asked in unison.

Kitty eyed House's wedding band. "You're married, Dr. House … such a shame."

"But I'm single!" Wilson offered.  
"I wonder what Cuddy would have to say about that," hissed House.

Wilson slunk back dejectedly as House continued.

"I'm very happily married, Miss Kitty. You were saying something about your boss? Does he live at _La Casa del Gato Negro_?"

Kitty nodded.

"His house sign appears to be missing …"

A slight smile appeared on Kitty's face as she noticed a gap on the signpost where it _used_ to hang.  
"I can't imagine how that happened. Let me take you to him."

House opened the door of the 'vette for the ravishing woman.  
"Tell me, Kitty. Your boss … does he have a name?"

"Why yes, yes he does. Follow me."  
She turned on the ignition and sped off down the road.

oOoOo

House and Wilson followed the cloud of dust from Kitty's Corvette to a parking area at the top of a steep hill.

"Right this way, gentlemen," she said with a businesslike smile.

"House! House, look at the view!" Wilson said, nudging House in the ribs.  
"I am, I am," House grinned; enthralled with the view Kitty's skimpy shorts offered him.

"No, House … look!" Wilson grabbed House's shoulders as Kitty disappeared around the corner. "Look!"

"Holy …" House stood, his mouth agape, taking in his surrounding. The luxurious Spanish mansion, complete with a red tiled roof stood perched high atop a hill overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. They followed a curving cobblestone path, through an impeccably manicured lawn around to the front of the house where Kitty stood with a flamboyantly dressed man on an expansive terrace that led to a sparkling infinity pool.

"House, do you think he's The Black Cat?" Wilson whispered.

"Buena Mañana, Caballeros. Recepción a la casa del gato negro. Mi casa es su casa."

"What's he saying?" asked Wilson.  
"He's saying good morning and welcoming us to his house," House translated.

"Mi nombre es el doctor Eric F. Foreman."  
"His name is Doctor Eric F. Foreman."  
"Yea, I got that."

House shook the doctor's hand and introduced himself and Wilson.  
"Gracias. Mi nombre es el doctor Greg House y éste es el mi doctor James Wilson del colega."  
"House, please," pleaded Wilson.  
"Okay, I'll take care of it."

"Usted debe perdonar a mi colega, el Dr. Wilson. Su español está un poco oxidado. Quizás debemos continuar en ingles," House said, apologizing to Dr. Foreman for Wilson's inability to speak Spanish.

A smile spread across Foreman's handsome face as he turned to address Wilson.  
"Sí, sí. Por supuesto. My apologies, Dr. Wilson."

"What did you say to him?" Wilson asked as an aside, while trying to smile at Foreman.

"I told him you were an under-endowed idiot living with an over-sexed dominatrix," House whispered back.

"You didn't?" asked Wilson, as he glanced down at his manhood.

"You'll never know," House smirked. "I told you, you should have taken Spanish."

"I'll have you know, Lisa is _very_ impressed with me," Wilson added defensively, still stinging from House's barb.

"C'mon. It looks like Dr. Foreman is going to feed us."

House put an arm around Wilson's shoulders and steered him towards the outdoor dining area.  
"Don't worry about Cuddy. As long as Allison doesn't tell her about Mt. Gregory, she'll never know what she's missing!"

**_... by daisyb10_**


	11. Ch 8: Fritz the Cat, Pt 2

**_A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 8: Fritz the Cat, Part 2**_

"Doctores, please be seated. Kitty, you may begin serving brunch whenever you are ready."  
"Si, Señor Fritz," she answered, before disappearing into the house.

"Fritz?" House pounced. "Is that what the 'F' stands for?"  
Foreman laughed. "Unofficially. My friends call me Fritz. I prefer the informality of Fritz to Dr. Foreman."

_Fritz … the Cat?_, thought House.

"And what is your specialty, Dr. Foreman?" Wilson asked politely.  
"Fritz … please. I would like to think of you both as my friends," he replied graciously. "I'm a neurologist, but I'm not practicing medicine at the moment. I decided the world of business and finance held a greater appeal for me."

"Really? What is it you do now?" Wilson was enthralled with the curious man.  
"I'm a consultant. Most of my work involves industrial espionage and medical malpractice and I also dabble in the entertainment industry."

"That's impressive!' said Wilson. "You must be very good at what you do. You have a beautiful home."  
"It keeps the rain off my head," Foreman replied with modest charm, as he looked at his home with pride.

House sat in silence, fidgeting with his cane as he studied Foreman. He was, without doubt a handsome man, but his clothing was unorthodox, to say the least. A billowing gold shirt highlighted his ebony skin to perfection. A black fedora plumed with a yellow ostrich feather sat rakishly atop his shaved head and he wore a pair of buttery soft golden-brown suede trousers tucked into high well-worn black leather boots.

_Bizarre. Very bizarre.  
__Is this Fritz … Fritz the Cat … obsessed with The Three Musketeers?  
__And that sound he's making … is he humming? … or purring?_

"You look like a man who has much on his mind, Dr. House," Foreman observed.  
"Please, call me Greg or House … whichever you prefer."

"Gracias, mi nuevo amigo. Feel free to ask any questions you may have."

"Thank you. Actually, I was just wondering …" House began, when he was interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing in the house.

"Señor Fritz? Hay una llamada telefónica para usted." Kitty called.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?" Foreman strode quickly inside.  
"Gracias, gatito," he said, patting Kitty's perfect behind before taking the call. "¿Hola?"

"Fritz? This is John House. Did my son arrive?"  
"Yes he did, Lord General House. There is just one problem. Dr. House did not come alone.  
His colleague, Dr. Wilson, is accompanying him."

"Damn! I should have known he'd bring along Wilson. Those two are inseparable. They're like little girls … they probably still go to the head together!"

"What is it you wish me to do, Lord General? Shall I drug them both?"  
"You'll have to. If you don't knock out Wilson, you'll never get the pictures I need of Gregory."

"Agreed. I will contact you when the deed is done. Do not worry. No physical harm will befall your son or his friend."  
"Thank you, Fritz."

"It is my pleasure to serve you, Lord General House."  
"Goodbye."

Foreman handed the phone back to Kitty.  
"Gatito, there has been a slight change of plans. You heard what we must do. Please serve the appetizers immediately. I will tell you when the time has come to prepare the beverages."

"Aguardaré sus instrucciones."

"Muy bueno." Foreman winked at Kitty and returned to the terrace where House and Wilson were waiting.

"Señor Greg? I'm afraid I have some bad news. Your father's meeting with King Bertram has run longer than anticipated and he will be unable to join us for brunch. He sends you his apologies."

"Well, that's a bonus, eh Wilson?" House muttered.

"Ah, here's Kitty. What have you brought us, my dear?"  
"Fresh fruit and canapés. Bien ape! Dr. House, Dr. Wilson…"  
Kitty smiled warmly and returned to the mansion.

"Please, try the mango, or some of this excellent papaya. You must be hungry."  
Foreman watched House and Wilson load up their plates, then continued.

"Greg, your father has told me much about CRIPPLED. He's very proud of your accomplishments."

"I beg your pardon? That must have been someone else's father you were talking to," House said with complete sincerity.

Foreman chuckled and stroked his goatee. "No, my friend, it was _your _father. You should hear how he boasts of your imminent cure for Lupus. I was most impressed. That is why I requested this meeting with you.

As you can see, I have had a very fortunate life and it is time for me to give something back to this wonderful country. Naturally, being a doctor, I prefer to invest in medicine. I would like to pledge ten million dollars to help fund your Lupus research at CRIPPLED."

"Ten m-m-million dollars?" Wilson asked incredulously.  
"You have heard correct, James. I wish to give your friend ten million dollars. What do you say, Greg?"

House squinted in the bright noontime sun. "What's the catch?"  
"House!" Wilson scolded, embarrassed by House's rudeness.

"Ha-ha-ha!" Foreman roared with laughter.  
"Your friend, he is very clever, James. Do not scold him, for he is right to be suspicious."

"I'm sorry …" House began, "but I've been burned before. The old administrator at PPTH …"

"Lord Vogler?"  
"Yes, do you know him?"

"Not terribly well. I consulted with him on a couple of occasions. I was surprised to hear of his death."

House and Wilson looked at each other, unsure how much Foreman knew of their association with Vogler.

"Oh well. That is … how do they say it? Water under the overpass, no?" he asked innocently.  
"No … I mean, si … si …." fumbled Wilson.

House laughed at Wilson as he continued. "Vogler tried to shut down my lab and sabotage my research to prevent my lupus cure from being approved by the FDA."

"Why would a man with a love of medicine want to do such a thing?" Foreman asked thoughtfully.

"Vogler was a businessman first and foremost. He owned Dewey Screwem Pharmaceuticals. Have you heard of the company?"  
"Si. I believe they manufacture and develop NSAIDs. ¿Está eso correcto?"

"That's correct. Vogler stood to lose millions of dollars from the sale of NSAIDs if my discovery proved to be a definitive cure for lupus."

"¡Ese bastardo!" Foreman seared with disgust. "Have no fear, Greg. I will not betray you as Lord Vogler did.  
Let us seal our deal with a celebratory toast."

"That sounds wonderful, Fritz, but if you don't mind, I need to use your facilities, before I drink anything else, " Wilson said as he stood.

"The guest bathroom is just inside the door, mi amigo. And if you wouldn't mind, would you please ask Kitty to prepare the drinks for our toast?"

"Certainly, Fritz. House, I'll be right back."

House watched Wilson leave before turning his attention back to Foreman.  
"This is some spread you have here. How large is your house?"

Foreman popped a pineapple spear into his mouth as he spoke.  
"Eight th-th-th …"

Suddenly he jumped to his feet, his hands alternately waving at House and clenching his throat.

His fedora rolled across the patio.  
His eyeballs bulged from his head.  
His lips took on a distinct purplish hue.

House sat there looking at Foreman, then called out, "Wilson, have you finished your pee? Fritz is choking on a chunk of pineapple.  
You're going to have to give him the Heimlich maneuver."

House reached for a breaded shrimp ball as he watched Foreman throw himself over the back of his chair, in an attempt to dislodge the offending piece of fruit.

"Wilson?''

"Wilson?? Better hurry!"

"Oh shit …" he muttered. "What's taking Wilson so long? Hell, I'm going to have to do this myself or we'll have kitty litter all over the patio."

House pushed himself up out of his lounger and walked around behind Foreman. Leaning against him for support, House wrapped his arms around the choking man, made an interlocking fist with his hands and pulled up sharply under the apex of Foreman's ribs.

The pineapple spear shot from Foreman's mouth with incredible force, landing in the shallow end of the swimming pool.  
"Cool …" House grinned. "I never seen anyone spew a chunk of fruit that far in my life! Well done!"

Foreman gasped for breath and vomited the rest of his breakfast all over his boots as Wilson and Kitty came out of the house.

"Oh! That is nasty!" Wilson said, stopping in his tracks. "What happened?"  
"Hairball," quipped House. "What took you so long? I had to Heimlich the big pussy all by myself."

"I was talking to Kitty while she prepared our drinks. But that's beside the point. Why call me? You're a doctor … at least you _were_ the last time I checked."

"Duh … cripple here. You know how hard it is for me to get out of such a comfortable chair …"  
"House …"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen … please sit down," urged a shaken, but grateful Foreman. "Thank you for saving my life, Greg."

"Yes, how can we ever thank you, Dr. House?" asked Kitty, handing everyone a drink. "May I propose a toast?"

"To Dr. Gregory House … our hero!" gushed Kitty.  
"Here, here!" seconded Wilson.

"_Noooooooooo!"_ Foreman cried, as his sword knocked the drinks out of House and Wilson's hands before they could take a sip.

"What the hell?" House shouted, wiping the fruity cocktail off his clothes with a napkin.  
"Are you insane, Fritz? You could have killed us with that sword."

"Believe me Greg, if I had wanted to kill you and James, we would not be having this discussion right now. Your drinks were drugged."

House and Wilson glared at Kitty.

"Don't blame the girl. She was just carrying out my orders. Gatito, please leave us alone."

Kitty scurried into the mansion and locked the door.  
Foreman slumped in his chair, utterly defeated and proceeded to wipe the vomit off his boots.

House grabbed the sword and pressed its glistening tip against Foreman's throat.  
"I want to know what's going on and I want to know now!" demanded House.

"House, neuter him! Give him the Bob Barker treatment!" urged an angry Wilson.

"All in good time, Wilson. First I want to know who put Fritz up to this and then we'll castrate him!"

Foreman looked up at House.  
His chocolate brown eyes welled with tears.  
"¡Por favor, Greg! ¡Por favor! ¡Pido su misericordia! I beg for your mercy!"

"¡Le imploro! No era nada personal, senor. Lo hacía solamente para mi familia. Mi madre, ella es enferma. Y mi padre vive de la basura. Y su padre me ofreció mucho en oro, y tengo una litera de hermanos... tan cuando su padre me le pagó a la droga... " Foreman spit out his confession at lightning speed.

"¡Whoa, whoa, whoa! ¿Mi padre le nos pagó a la droga?" House shouted.  
"House! In English, remember?" Wilson interrupted.

"Sorry, Wilson. Whoa, whoa, whoa! My father paid you to drug us? "  
"Si." Foreman hung his head in shame as House lowered the sword.

"Why would he want to do that?"

"To ensure your susceptibility to Miss Kitty's charms. Lord General House hired me to take compromising photographs of you with my gatito. It was his intention to show them to your bride in order to destroy your marriage. I can assure you, you would not have suffered any lasting effects from the potion. Dr. Wilson was merely an innocent bystander, " Foreman explained.

"He wanted to destroy my marriage? Well, so much for Daddy's blessing!"  
House wandered off sadly and stared at his reflection in the swimming pool.  
"Maybe Allison would've been better off if she'd married her Prince Charming, instead of me."

"That's exactly what your father said," volunteered Foreman.

Wilson shot Foreman a withering glare.  
"House, look at me." Wilson's plea was rewarded with a sideways glance.  
"_You're _the only Prince Charming Cameron wants! She_ loves_ you! She _knows_ you'd do anything for her."

"Yea, right!" he said with disgust. "Some Prince Charming I turned out to be! I'm old, rude, crude and crippled!  
But, it's not like I wouldn't change if I could. I just wish I could think of a way to make Allison happy."

"Hold the phone …"  
Suddenly, a hint of a smile replaced the frown on House's face and his blue eyes began to sparkle.  
He was having a "House Moment" … A breakthrough!

"Why didn't I think of this before?"  
House pulled the Fairy Godmother's business card from his pocket and waved it at Wilson.

"Happiness is just ... a tear drop away."

**_... by daisyb10_**


	12. Ch 8: Fritz the Cat, Pt 3

**_A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 8: Fritz the Cat, Part 3**_

"Wilson, think of the saddest thing that's ever happened to you."  
"Where do I begin?" Wilson rolled his eyes as he reflected on his life.

"Well, let's see. The day Vogler forced me to resign was certainly one of the saddest _days_ in my life. Oh, and remember when I was pledging for the Tri Lams? And they made me dress up like a donkey so their guests could play Pin-the-Tail-on-Wilson? That was pretty humiliating! And to make matters worse, later, when they got _really_ drunk, they started swinging at me with a stick and calling me a "Piñata!"

Wilson shook his head in dismay, then looked at House.  
"What _is_ a piñata, anyway?"

"Por favor señor, excepto mí de este imbecile …" muttered Foreman.

"You need to think of something sadder, Wilson! I need you to cry!" House shouted.

"House, vicarious emotions aren't healthy. I know you're upset about your father, and if you feel like crying, you should just g-g-g- … OWWWW!!

Wilson howled with pain as Foreman stomped on his instep with the heel of his boot.  
"I _knew_ there was something I didn't like about you … you … big tomcat!" he whimpered. "Why'd you have to hurt me?"

A single fat tear rolled down Wilson's cheek. House sprung into action, slipping the Fairy Godmother's business card directly into its path. The tear landed with a plop and instantaneously morphed into a lone iridescent bubble. As the bubble floated upwards and bobbed gently over their heads, an encapsulated video image of an attractive brunette came into focus and began to speak.

"What? Is it on? Is it on? … ahem …"

"House, that woman … she looks awfully familiar …" Wilson studied the video, his brow furrowed in concentration.  
"Yea, she does …" agreed House. "But I can't place her."  
"Me neither." Wilson sighed with frustration. "Maybe, it'll come to me later."

"You have reached Fairy Godmother.  
I'm either away from my desk or with a client. But if you come by the office, we'll be glad to make you an appointment. Have a 'Happy Ever After'!" she said in a lilting tone.

House scratched at the scruff on his chin as the bubble burst into a cascade of sparkling fairy dust.  
"Are you up for a little quest, Wilson?"

Wilson's smile was a mile wide. "You bet I am! House and Wilson, off on another whirlwind adventure!"

"Dr. House?" Foreman asked formally, feeling uncomfortable using House's first name.  
"On my honour, I am obliged to accompany you until I have saved your life, as you have spared mine."

"That won't be necessary, Fritz!" Wilson sneered. "The position of House's BFF has already been filled – by me! Let's go, House!"

"Dr. House? Dr. House!"  
House paused as Wilson walked away.

"Por favor, El Doctor House."  
Foreman clutched his fedora in his hands and gazed up at House with pleading eyes.

"Wilson, what do you think? Look at him … in his fancy boots. You know, how many men can wear boots like that? Honestly! Why don't we let him come along?"

Wilson stopped in his tracks and looked back at House. "You've _got_ to be kidding!"

"I can guide you to the Fairy Godmother's office …" Foreman offered, beginning to purr softly in House's ear.

"Ahhhh … Listen, Wilson, he's purring! That's so cute!" House gushed uncharacteristically.

"Oh, so now he's cute. You didn't feel that way when he was plotting to destroy your marriage, did you?!"

"Lighten up, Wilson. That was my father's doing," House grumbled, opening the door of the Hummer for Foreman.

"Lighten up? Lighten up?" Wilson got into the back of the truck. "Look who's telling who to lighten up!"

oOoOo

Cameron giggled as she awoke to a warm tongue lapping at her nose.

_Hmmm … that's different … but it feels kind of nice …_

She kept her eyes closed, basking in her husband's sexual exuberance.  
_Greg's such a phenomenal lover. Who would have thought a bite on my nose could feel … wait a minute … he's biting my nose?_

Cameron sat up sharply and found Macintosh frolicking on her lap and an empty bed beside her.  
"Have you seen Greg, Macintosh?" she asked, quickly dressing.  
"No? Then let's look downstairs."

As she reached for her tote, something familiar caught her eye.  
"Is that … my diary? Why would anyone want to read … uh-oh …"

Cameron smiled wistfully at her childhood artwork – a crayon portrait of herself kissing Prince Charming, and then read from her beloved book. **"****And they lived happily ever after …"**

Her stomach was in knots by time she navigated the long staircase that led to the kitchen.  
"Greg? Greg? Where are you?" she called frantically.

"Princess Allison? May I be of assistance?" came a deep cultured voice from behind her.

"Jeeves, you startled me!" she exclaimed, holding her hand over her racing heart. "Have you seen my husband, or Dr. Wilson?"

"I'm afraid not, Your Highness."

"Are Lord and Lady House still at home?" Cameron asked desperately.

"I'm sorry to say they've left for the day. They're over at King Bertram's palace, making the final preparations for your wedding celebration. I can drive you there, if you like?"

"Thank you, Jeeves. I need to speak with them urgently. I have to find my husband."

oOoOo

"They're both festive, aren't they?" Blythe commented, admiring the bolts of material the party planner was holding.  
"What do you think, John?"

"Um …. Yes, yes. Fine. Fine," he mumbled, barely glancing at the fabric.

"You could at least try to pretend you're interested in your son's wedding ball," Blythe sighed, "especially after King Bertram so graciously offered to hold it here in his palace."

"Honestly, darling, I don't think it matters. How do we even know there's going to be a ball given Gregory and Allison's fight last night?"

"Lord General? Lady Blythe?" Cameron called, as she limped out to join them on the terrace.

"Oh, hello dear," Blythe said warmly, giving Cameron a kiss on the cheek.

John glanced around nervously, looking for an escape.  
"What's that Cedric? Right! Coming!" he shouted, wandering off.

"Lady Blythe, have you seen Greg? He wasn't in our bed when I woke up this morning and he's not answering his cell. I'm very worried about him."

"I haven't seen him today, my dear. You should ask his father. But be sure and use small words. My husband seems a little slow this morning."

oOoOo

"Can I help you, Lord General House?"  
"Ah, yes, yes you can!" John breathed a sigh of relief as he caught up to an unsuspecting manservant.

John scooped a sample of food from the stainless steel bowl in the servant's hand.  
"Yum … Mmm! This is exquisite. What do you call this dish?"

"That would be the dog's breakfast, Milord."

"Ah, yes … I thought so. Very good, then. Carry on, Cedric."  
John's stomach heaved when he realized what he had just eaten.

"Lord General?" A delicate hand touched his shoulder.  
As he feared, it was Cameron.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I can't find Greg and I'm very worried. Have you seen him today?"

"No, but knowing my son …" Lying to the Princess was harder than John thought it would be.  
"I'm sure he just went off to look for a nice piece …, I mean, a nice_ place _to cool off. You know, after your little spat last night."

Cameron's cheeks turned bright red. "I was hoping you hadn't heard that."

"I'm afraid the whole kingdom heard you, Your Highness. I mean, after all, it is in Gregory's nature to be … well, a bit of a brute."

"My husband is _not_ a brute. And you know, you didn't exactly roll out the Welcome Wagon for him when we arrived," scolded Cameron.

"Well, what did you expect? Look what he's done to you! You're a cripple! You don't deserve a life of pain!"

Cameron was appalled at her father-in-law's callous tone.  
"And neither does your son! This isn't his fault. It's my destiny to be crippled … to take my true love's form. Greg's love means everything to me. I would think you'd be happy for us."

John sighed wearily. He was exasperated with the beautiful young woman's naiveté.

"Did you ever stop to consider you could have fallen in love with a healthy, young man, just as easily as an old, crippled ogre? I hope my son's as devoted to you, as you obviously are to him.

I'm only thinking about what's best for you, Princess Allison. Maybe … _you_ should do the same."

oOoOo

"Damn! I was afraid this might happen!"  
House shifted into neutral and turned off the engine.

"What's wrong, boss? Are we out of gas?"  
"No, mi amigo. This road's too narrow for the Hummer. We'll have to walk from here."

House and Foreman started down the grassy slope as Wilson lagged behind, moping at the sight of his BFF exchanging confidences with a stranger.

"No, really?" he heard House say, followed by their shared laughter.  
"Shh … Ohhh … he'll hear you …"

The blast of a factory whistle led the trio out of the woods through a thicket of dense brush and grass.

A storybook country cottage came into view. Birds twittered to and fro as they darted amongst the delphiniums and hollyhocks that graced its colourful gardens.

The pastoral setting evoked images of an idyllic country life, until they saw the massive factory attached to the rear of the cottage. Four cylindrical smokestacks spewed colourful plumes of toxins into the azure sky.

Their nostrils burned from the foul stench in the air.

"This place gives me the heebie-jeebies!" Wilson backed away slowly. "It must be déjà vu, but I feel like I've seen this factory before."

"You probably saw it on the news, " Foreman explained. "The EPA tried to shut it down a few months ago. It used to be the old Keebler factory, but now it belongs to the new Fairy Godmother. She's the largest producer of hexes and potions in the whole kingdom."

"Then why don't we pop in there for a spell? Ha-ha! Spell! Get it, Wilson?" House smirked, poking Wilson in the ribs.

"Awww … Señor Greg … you make me laugh …" Foreman fawned between gales of laughter.

"I'm _so_ happy you both find this amusing," Wilson said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"But there is one thing, I cannot understand," Foreman continued, as his chuckles subsided.  
"Why would a woman, as beautiful as Señorita Warner, abandon a flourishing law practice to launch such an enterprise.  
It's odd, don't you agree?"

Wilson turned towards Foreman.  
"Excuse me, Fritz … did you say, Señorita Warner?"  
"Si, Señorita Warner."

"Stacy Warner?" he confirmed.  
"Si. Do you know of her?" Foreman questioned.

House and Wilson stared at the ground in stunned silence.  
Wilson grew paler with each passing second, until finally House spoke. "We know her all too well, mi amigo."

Wilson grabbed House's shoulders in a panic.  
"House, we've got to get out of here! Now!"  
"We can't leave, Wilson. The Fairy Godmother's the only person that can help me," House reasoned.

"Do you honestly think Stacy gives a flying fart about your marriage?!" Wilson asked incredulously.  
"Forget about what she did to me. Let's talk about you."

Wilson held two pinched fingers scant inches from House's nose.  
"She came _this close … this close … _to shutting down CRIPPLED and sabotaging your research!  
You can't trust her, House! She's pure evil!"

A pained expression crossed House's face at the memory of Stacy's treachery.

Wilson softened his approach.  
"She'll recognize us the moment she sees us. She'll kick our sorry butts, with those stilettos of hers, right out the front door. Stacy has no reason to help you, House. Have you thought about that?"

"You're right, she doesn't." House looked at his friend thoughtfully. "But what about Allison?"

"Allison? I don't follow …"  
"Stacy is _her_ Fairy Godmother!"

House could tell Wilson was still confused.  
"Don't you see? She _has_ to care about Allison's happiness!  
If she didn't, she wouldn't be much of a Fairy Godmother, would she?"

"I never thought of that," Wilson said, considering House's argument. "You could be on to something!"

House's smile at Wilson's ray of hope quickly dissolved into a look of steely determination.  
"All I know, is I have to try. Will you help me … please?"

"What are we waiting for?" Wilson grinned. "Let's go!"

He threw an arm around House's shoulder as they wended their way to the gate of the cottage garden.  
"Thanks, buddy," House murmured appreciatively.

"No problem. That's what friends are for."  
Wilson glanced over his shoulder at Foreman and stuck out his tongue at the morose moggy.

"That's what friends are for …" Foreman whined back to Wilson, with his thumbs firmly planted in his ears, his fingers waving and his tongue thrust out as far as it would go. "Amigo, mi asno …"

House couldn't help but smirk.

**_... by daisyb10_**


	13. Ch 9: The Factory, Pt 1

**_A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 9: The Factory, Part 1**_

"Now, remember what I said. Not one word. Let me do all the talking. Got it?"  
"Sí, señor Greg. No una palabra."  
"Understood. Not one word," echoed Wilson.

House took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then stepped purposefully inside, flanked by Wilson and Foreman.

The Fairy Godmother's waiting room was an unexpected vision of opulence and grandeur, given the quaint exterior of her rustic cottage. A stunning marble floor, laid diagonally in alternate rows of lavender and purple custom-hued tiles, showcased the room's elegant furnishings. Velvety armchairs and loveseats in a rich shade of fuchsia sat beneath gilt-framed oil paintings on lavender walls. The portraits depicted generations of fairy godmothers, and bore witness to the longevity of this centuries-old enterprise.

A slight elfin man, who House guessed was Stacy's assistant, sat alone at the head of the room.  
"Hi, I'm here to see the …" House began.

"The Fairy Godmothère?" the man asked in a thick French accent, not bothering to look up from the invoice he was studying.  
"I'm sorry. She's not in."

"Jerome! Coffee! Now!" Stacy's voice squawked over the intercom. "And bring me my cigarettes!"

"Not in, you say?" House smirked as he eyed two coquettish portraits of Stacy.  
_She's larger than life, and more dangerous than ever …_

With a heavy sigh of resignation, Jerome spoke into the brass gramophone horn on his desk.  
"Yes, Fairy Godmothère. Right away," then looked up at the trio. "Look, she's not seeing any clients today, okay?"

"That's okay, buddy. We're from the union." House announced.  
"The union?"

"We represent the workers in all magical industries, both evil and benign."  
"Oh! Oh, right," Jerome answered, pretending to be familiar with the non-existent union.

"Are you feeling at all degraded or oppressed?" House asked with concern.

Jerome flicked the intercom off before answering. "Well, now that you mention it, yes."  
He leaned forward with great interest. "We don't even have a dental plan!"

"Tsk-tsk. Can you imagine that?" House turned to Wilson. "They don't even have a dental plan."  
Wilson and Foreman shook their heads in disbelief.

"Okay, we'll just have a look around. Oh, by the way … I think it would be better if the Fairy Godmother didn't know we were here." House suggested in a conspiratorial tone.

"My lips are sealed," Jerome winked. "Please, go right in. The first door on your left will lead you straight to the factory."

oOoOo

A cacophonous noise assaulted their ears as they looked down upon the factory from an upper balcony. Gears squealed, steam hissed and voices chattered loudly in an effort to be heard above the periodic explosions from the workstations in the center of the room. Three stories high, if an inch, the stone fortress resembled a medieval torture chamber. Hundreds of diminutive workers scurried about in hooded, white bio-hazard robes with protective glass visors and blue neoprene rubber-wear on their hands and feet.

"It's a colony of smurfs!" House said with mock glee. "Right here, in Cape Wooster!"

Wilson laughed as he surveyed the room. "The machinery … it's so …."  
"Primitive?" House suggested.

"Primitive. Exactly. Look, over there. That wooden conveyor belt. They're running on it like a treadmill … it's … it's ..."

"Everywhere. The potion vats, the mill wheels, the bottling equipment … they were already antiques a hundred years ago!"

"Boss, look! In the cage next to the swans. Do my eyes deceive me? Is that a two-headed tiger?!"  
House and Wilson leaned over the railing next to Foreman, straining to catch a better glimpse of the curious creature.

_KA-BOOM!!  
_"That was a little too close for comfort!" yelled a startled Wilson. "It sounded like the explosion came from this floor."

_KA-BOOM!!  
_The balcony was flooded in florescent green light. "C'mon!" House hurried towards an archway in the balcony wall.

_KA-BOOM!!  
_A woman's voice lured them to another waiting room. It was smaller than the first, with an identical décor.

_KA-BOOM!! KA-BOOM!! KA-BOOM!!_  
The explosions accelerated at an alarming rate; each one louder and brighter than the one before.

"**A drop of desire …"**

"She's in the next room …"

The fearless trio snuck in with ease.  
Stacy was mesmerized by the bubbling cauldron that boiled at her feet, twirling giddily as she danced around her creation. Like a master chef, she selected her ingredients from the lavender hutches that lined the walls of her lab. With thousands of recipes at her fingertips, she was the undisputed queen of manipulation and magic.

"Oooo … That's naughty!" she giggled.

"**A pinch of passion …"**

A blast of violet smoke arose from the cauldron as passion entered the mix.

Stacy reached for a large earthenware jug.  
She laughed lasciviously, watching the red syrupy liquid stream into her brew.

"**And just a hint of lust! …"**

_KA-BOOM!!  
_An explosion of lust flooded the lab with crimson smoke.  
The clouds swirled violently, spinning in a tornado-like frenzy above the cauldron before morphing into a monstrous red heart.

"Um, excuse me …"

_"EEEEEEEK!!"_  
Stacy stopped in mid-twirl as she caught sight of her visitors through the dissipating smoke.

"Excuse me, Fairy Godmother. We're sorry to barge in like this …" House began.

Stacy angrily drew a fuchsia velvet curtain across the entrance to her lab, and stripped off her lab coat revealing the shimmering blue silk sheath that she wore beneath.

"Dr. House … Dr. Wilson … and you …" Stacy said, turning her attention to Foreman. "We've met before, have we not?"

House nodded imperceptibly, allowing Foreman to speak.

"It was my great honour to make your acquaintance at my recent gala benefiting the Humane Society of Cape Wooster. " Foreman removed his fedora and bowed deeply. "Dr. Eric F. Foreman, at your service."

"Why, thank you!" Stacy gushed with "southern belle" charm.

But her charm was short lived.

"Now what, in Grimm's name, are you doing here?" she barked.  
Stacy staccatoed into her office in four-inch Louboutin stilettos and sat at her desk, impatiently drumming her fingernails as she looked from man to man. "It's not nice to keep Fairy Godmother waiting …" she seethed. "Somebody, say something!"

House stepped forward and spoke with a confidence that belied his nerves.  
"I've come to engage your services. I need your help … for my wife."

Stacy's lips curled into the slightest of smiles. _This should be interesting …  
_"I had no idea you were married, Dr. House," she lied, unwilling to tip her hand. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"Doctor Allison Cameron. Actually, you know her as _Princess_ Doctor Allison Cameron."

"So _you're_ the man who's responsible for crippling my Fairy Goddaughter!" she accused.

"NO!! … Well, yes … well, I guess I am." House stared at the floor dejectedly, but quickly looked up.  
"But I didn't mean to … _honestly!"_

"_But- you-didn't-mean-to_ … _honestly …._" she sneered, lingering over every word.  
"And just what, _exactly_, do you want from me_?"_

"I think my wife's unhappy, with me and our marriage.  
And when I read your business card, 'Happiness is just … a tear drop away', I thought maybe, you could help."

_Men can be so stupid at times …  
_Stacy smiled coyly at House and smoothed a phantom wrinkle from the bodice of her dress, drawing House's attention to her curvaceous bosom.

"Oh, you did, did you?" she drawled sarcastically. "And there's some question as to why your Princess is unhappy?  
Well, let's explore that, shall we?"

Stacy rose from her seat and walked to her bookcase. She browsed shelf by shelf, sliding an impeccably manicured index finger over each leather-bound volume.

"Ah … P, P, P … Princess. Cinderella. Here we are," she said, reading aloud from the book.

"Lived happily ever after. Oh!" Stacy laughed as she looked back at House, before flinging the fairy tale towards her desk. "No cripples!"

"Let's try S! Snow White. A handsome prince. What a surprise! No cripples!"

"Sleeping Beauty. Oh, no cripples!"  
Each book flew over her shoulder as she moved on to the next, landing open on her desk with startling accuracy, squarely atop its predecessor.

"Hansel and Gretel? No!"  
"Thumbelina? No."  
The stack of books grew higher.

"The Golden Bird, The Little Mermaid, Pretty Woman …"

"No, no, no, no, no!" she shouted, as five more books fell into place.

Stacy turned to confront House, but suddenly softened when she saw the sadness in his eyes.  
She spoke tenderly as she broke her unfortunate news.

"Some relationships aren't meant to be. You see … cripples don't live happily ever after."

"But Allison's crippled, too!" House protested.

Stacy's compassion was short-lived.  
"And whose fault is that? You're an idiot, House! You should have never allowed yourself to fall in love with Princess Allison. You've ruined her life!  
No wonder she's unhappy with you!" she countered.

House's blood began to boil. "Alright! I get it! It's all my fault!"  
He fought to remain composed. "Please, will you help me make things right?"

"Help _you_?" Stacy chortled. "You've _got_ to be kidding!"

"Remember, I'm not asking for me … it's for Allison. _You're _her Fairy Godmother! You must want her to be happy!" House pleaded.

Stacy stood silently, as if deep in thought.

"You're right," she said quietly. "I _do_ want Princess Allison to be happy."  
She straightened aggressively, her hands resting on her hips as she leaned forward towards House.

"And that's _precisely_ why I _won't_ help you save your marriage!"

With every sentence her voice grew louder. "It should never have happened!"  
Then shriller. "It's time you realize that, House!"  
And the coup de grâce… "You will _never_ … and I do mean _NEVER_ … make Allison happy!"

"That's enough!" House snapped. "I love my wife and I _will_ make her happy!"  
"So let me get this straight, Stacy … you're refusing to help me."

"That's right. And it's _Fairy Godmother_ to you!"

"Yea, yea … you're the Great, Benevolent Fairy Godmother!" House mocked, waving his index finger agitatedly in her face.  
"That's what you want everyone to believe! Spreading happiness and sunshine wherever you go!"

"Just remember, _I know_ why you were disbarred!  
_I know_ how you and Vogler tried to ruin Wilson's life and reputation!"

"And _I know ..._" Wilson burst in, no longer able to contain his anger, "how you tried to sabotage House's research and shut down CRIPPLED!"

"I know nothing …" Foreman murmured.

"_You're a fake_! _A phony!" _House continued_. "_You're spreading something alright, and it smells like ..."

"I can assure you, Doctor House, my powers are real," Stacy hissed in a foreboding tone. "Want a sample?"

House cut his rant short as Stacy began to levitate, rising swiftly to glare down at him from a position of dominance.

"And don't you point those long, sinewy fingers at me!" she warned.

As much as House annoyed her, Stacy was finding their argument an incredible turn-on.  
Her core smoldered with a heat that had nothing to do with fury.  
_Hmmm … look at those hands … he must be quite the lover …. _

"Your coffee and cigarettes. Oh! Sorry, Fairy Godmother. Am I interrupting something?"  
The factory attendant froze behind his serving cart.

"Don't you people ever knock?" Stacy spat with annoyance at the frightened man.

"That's okay. We were just leaving. I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, _Miss Fairy Godmother_."  
House knew there was nothing to be gained by prolonging the conversation.  
He'd lost the first round, but the fight was_ far_ from over.  
"Come on, Wilson. Foreman, we've worn out our welcome."

"Just … go!"  
Stacy waved a dismissive hand as she floated back down to the floor, but watched the men leave with an enigmatic smile on her face.

_You're mine, Gregory House … a few drops of my muscle regeneration potion, __and you'll be good as new … and ready for my bed …_

_**... by daisyb10**_


	14. Ch 9: The Factory, Pt 2

_**A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2**_

_**Chapter 9: The Factory, Part 2**_

"TGIF, eh, buddy?"  
A slight nod of the bottler's head acknowledged House's greeting.

The fact that his six-foot-plus frame attracted no attention astonished House, given his bizarrely disguised head sheathed in a bio-hazard cloak.

_Surely, they must notice me … I'm twice their size!  
_Accepting his good fortune, he moved swiftly towards his goal, nonchalantly whistling as he maneuvered his stainless steel serving cart through the bustling factory.

_KA-BOOM!!_

"Working hard or hardly working, eh, Mac?"  
House gave a friendly wave to a scientist at a nearby workstation who was studiously observing a plume of chartreuse smoke curl lazily towards the ceiling.

He propped the heavy door of the Potion Room open with his shoulder and pushed his cart inside.  
As the door swung closed, House unhooked his cane from the handle of the trolley and rapped sharply on its side.

"Get your fine Corinthian footwear out of my face! Man, your feet stink!"  
"¡Una mofeta olería el dulce comparado a usted!"

Wilson and Foreman tumbled out of hiding, tangled in an undistinguishable ball of arms and legs.

"What did I tell you about speaking English?" Wilson shouted, pushing Foreman away as he struggled to his feet.  
"Pray tell … what insult did you just hurl my way so I can respond in the appropriate manner?"

"Fritz said 'A skunk would smell sweet compared you!'" laughed House.  
"Why you … you … polecat! " Wilson sputtered, turning bright red.

"Let it go, Wilson. We don't have much time."

House thoughtfully studied the circular room. Its stone walls were lined with shelf after shelf of jewel-toned bottles in every imaginable shape and size, rising two imposing stories to the domed ceiling of the chamber.

"One of these has _got_ to help," he muttered to himself.

Foreman sidled up to House.

"I was just concocting this very plan! Already our minds are becoming one," he purred, stroking his thin manicured moustache with an air of superiority that infuriated Wilson.

"Sure you were, Fritz!" Wilson retorted sarcastically. "If we need an expert on butt kissing, we'll give you a call, but until then _I'll_ help _my _buddy figure out what to do!"

Wilson slipped an arm around House's shoulder, steering him away from Foreman.  
"House, this is a bad idea," he whispered nervously.

"Maybe so," House conceded. "But I'm not leaving here empty-handed!  
His jaws were clenched with determination. "If Stacy won't help me, I'll help myself!"

"Look, make yourself useful. Go keep watch. Stacy's minions are bound to catch on to us soon."

Wilson shuffled dejectedly to the door to stand guard.  
"So now I'm a watch dog …"

House nudged Foreman with his elbow, urging his eyes upward with a toss of his chin.  
"Fritz, do you think you could get to those bottles on top? The ones in that glass case?"

"No problema, boss!" Foreman swung his fedora proudly as he boasted.  
"In one of my nine lives, I was the great cat burglar of Santiago de Compostela! Ha-Ha-Ha!"

"House, are you out of your mind? You're counting on this thief to save your marriage?" Wilson asked incredulously.  
"Wilson, keep watch!" hissed House.

Wilson cracked open the door.  
"_I'm watching, dammit!_ But you should listen to me, House! I don't want to stand around and watch Stacy destroy your life the way she tried to destroy mine. Don't you dare say I didn't warn you!"

House was far too engrossed in watching Forman's ascent to pay any heed to Wilson's grumblings.  
"What do you see, Fritz?"

"Toad Stool Softener?" Foreman looked down over his shoulder at House.  
"Harrumph…" Wilson huffed. "Do you honestly think a nice bowel movement will solve House's marital problems?"

"Elfa Seltzer?"  
"Uh-uh."

"Hex Lax?"  
House shook his head. "No! Try handsome."

Foreman quickly scanned the potion labels.  
"Sorry, no handsome," he said as he carefully braced himself in front of the glass showcase.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up at the sight of a turquoise concoction.  
"This looks promising. 'Happily Ever After' …"

House scratched his chin. "That sounds more like it. What does it do?"  
Foreman read the label out loud. "It says 'Beauty Divine'."

"You know, in some cultures, best friends are revered as the wisest of creatures.  
Especially if they're oncologists," Wilson said, absentmindedly turning his back to the door, oblivious to the drama unfolding behind him.

"Wilson, look!"

House pointed to a factory worker deep in conversation with one of Stacy's guards. Words were irrelevant.  
His flailing arms, frantically pointing towards the Potion Room, told House all he needed to know.

"We're busted!" cried Wilson.

"Fritz, grab that one." House shouted. "It'll have to do. We've got company!"

"Right away, boss!"  
Foreman's swift punch shattered the glass. As he grabbed the elixir, a motion detector set off a screeching burglar alarm throughout the factory.

"Hurry, Fritz! It won't take the guards long to get here!"

Searchlights bathed the room in crimson light.  
He began his descent, but for the first time in Foreman's checkered career, his cat-like reflexes failed him.

A dusty shelf was his undoing.  
Bottles of potion crashed to the floor in every direction as he hurled through the air, struggling to remain upright.  
The "Happily Ever After" potion took flight.

House watched helplessly as the key to his happiness tumbled towards him.  
He lurched awkwardly for the bottle, but it glanced off his hand and in a blink of an eye, Wilson slid across the floor and caught the potion before it smashed into oblivion.

"Nice catch, Wilson!"  
House pocketed the potion as he helped his friend to his feet.

"Nice catch? Señor Butterfingers? Nice throw!" Foreman snarled as he landed lightly beside them and grabbed his fedora off the floor.  
"What? What are you looking at?"

House and Wilson stared in amazement at the uninjured man.  
"That was quite a fall … are you all right?" House asked with genuine concern.

Foreman smiled slyly and dusted off his hat.  
"Cats _always_ land on their feet!"

"Thank you." House smirked as he shook Foreman's hand, then snapped back into action.

"Come on! Let's get out of here!"  
They dove through the door as a security wall dropped with a thud behind them.

"Uh-oh …"  
The men froze in their tracks.

Row upon row of Stacy's guards fell into formation as they entered the factory.  
It was an army of clones … clones of Jerome.  
Like Stacy's assistant, each elfin man was dressed in purple velvet from head to toe.  
The inspiration for their uniforms was undoubtedly, Robin Hood.

"You better go on without me. I won't be able to keep up with you. Here Wilson, take the potion," House urged.  
Wilson shook his head. "Keep the potion, House, we're in this together!"

"¡Sí! ¡Todos para uno, y uno para todos!"  
"Even I got that one!" quipped Wilson.  
"Fritz, get on the other side of House! House, put an arm over each of our shoulders! Are you ready?"

The guards charged across the factory, their bows and arrows drawn.

"We've got to create a diversion." House looked around frantically.  
"Look! Can you help me up those stairs? The ones that circle the vat of potion?"

Wilson and Foreman carried House up to a rickety platform. They looked in the tub of simmering slime, then turned to each other with mile-wide grins on their faces.

"Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin', Wilson?" House asked, waggling his eyebrows. Wison nodded his head in agreement and glanced over at Foreman. "How 'bout you, Fritz?"

"Let' ¡retroceso de s el cubo!" he shouted with glee.  
"English, Fritz … English, please," pleaded Wilson.

"I think you mean 'Let's _tip_ the bucket!' not 'Let's _kick_ the bucket!" corrected House.  
"¡Oops! ¡Mis apologías, señor Greg!" Foreman said with embarrassment. "Kicking the bucket would not be a good idea."

"Okay. Everybody, on three!" House led.  
"¡Uno, dos, tres!" Foreman echoed.

The men grunted and cursed as they pushed with all their might, and suddenly, without warning, the heavy wooden vat tipped on its side, sending the transfiguring lavender slime gushing through the factory drenching everything and everyone in its path.

Swans blossomed into ballerinas.  
Scientists became transmuted timepieces.  
And the factory guards, their mouths agape in horror as their fate swept towards them, dropped their bows and arrows.  
Men of war morphed into birds of peace.  
A flock of snowy white doves flew to the rafters.

"What do we do now, boss?"  
"Wilson, there's a hook on that rail! Grab that rope! Let's lash our wrists together and go for a ride!"

"_WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!"_

They zipped along the ceiling coming to an abrupt, but welcome stop against the wall of the far balcony.  
"That was better than a roller coaster! We could install a zip line over the swamp, eh Wilson?" House gushed enthusiastically.

Wilson shed the ropes that bound his wrists.  
"Like Cameron's ever going to let you do that, House! Dream on ..."  
House smirked.

"Boss, I see the fire escape!"  
"Lead the way, Fritz. Lead the way."

oOoOo

"I don't care whose fault it is! Just get this place cleaned up!"

Stacy scowled with dismay at the puddles of lavender potion, dotting the floor of her factory.  
"And somebody bring me some more cigarettes!" she yelled to no one in particular.

"Fairy Godmother!" Chase scowled with disapproval as he watched Stacy hastily extinguish her vice with one ruby red sole of her pricey stilettos.

"Prince Robert. I wasn't expecting you ..."  
The handsome young man strode briskly towards her, his perfectly coiffed hair glistening in the afternoon sunlight.  
"This isn't a good time. Did we have an appointment?"

"I just dropped by for a progress report. What on earth happened here?" Chase asked, brushing his streaked golden bangs from his forehead.

Stacy clenched her fists at the thought of the man who was responsible for the wanton destruction of her factory.  
"It's not a _what_, it's a _who_. A who, named House!"

"House? House was here?" asked an enraged Chase.  
Stacy nodded.

"Where did he go? Just let me get my hands on that ogre!"

Chase drew his sword from its sheath and parried with his invisible foe.  
"I shall rend his head from his shoulders!  
I will smite him where he stands!  
He will rue the very day he stole my kingdom from me!"

_Boys and their toys … _Stacy thought, silently amused by her client's pompous posturing.  
"Be careful, Your Highness, you'll hurt yourself! Have no fear, you'll still be king. I'll just have to amend my plan, that's all."

"Pardon me, madam …" A dove, wearing a jaunty purple hat hovered beside Stacy with a clipboard grasped in its tiny feet.  
"Yes, Jerome?" she asked, making a mental note to get a new assistant.

"Everything is accounted for, Fairy Godmother, except for one potion."  
"Which one?" Stacy raised one perfectly arched eyebrow as she read the inventory carefully, noting the missing brew. "Oh, yes, I see …"

Her eyes sparkled at the possibilities!

_So you stole my Happily Ever After potion, Gregory … __You couldn't have made a better choice._

"It seems, Dr. House has purloined one of my potions. I do believe we can make this work to _our_ advantage.  
Come along, Prince Robert, let's talk in my office."

**_... by daisyb10_**


	15. Ch 10: The Happily Ever After Potion

**_A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 10: The "Happily Ever After" Potion**_

"Where's the Hummer?"  
House surveyed the surrounding woods for any sign of the path that led them here.  
"Wilson, do you remember which way we came?"

"An Eagle Scout never gets lost in the woods. Of course I remember. We came from the east, over there." Wilson pointed to a thicket of dense brush and grass.

"I beg to differ, Señor Greg. Señor James is mistaken. We approached from the west, exiting the forest through that spectacular grove of pines.

"Who asked you anyway?" Wilson crossed his arms angrily over his chest and glared at Foreman.  
"Scouts are for sissies!" Foreman scowled, drawing his sword from its sheath.

"We came from the east, you mangy fur ball!"  
"¡Vinimos del oeste, usted idiota!"

"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa! ¡Calme abajo, usted dos! Calm down, you two!" House shouted, insinuating himself between the adversaries.  
"Okay. Okay. Fritz, put the sword away. Wilson? I think we should follow Fritz."

"You're taking his word over mine?" asked an incredulous Wilson.

"He knows this land like the back of his hand. Don't you, Fritz?" House asked.  
"Como la parte posterior de mi mano, Señor Greg."

"Look, we don't know this part of Cape Wooster, Wilson. I could barely remember the way to my parents' house. We'll be okay.  
Fritz knows what he's doing. Just give me a minute to rest my leg."

Foreman smugly grinned like a Cheshire cat.

House pulled the bottle of turquoise potion from his pocket and read the label.

"_Happily Ever After Potion". Maximum strength.  
__For you and your true love.  
__If one of you drinks this, you'll both be fine.  
_"_Happiness, comfort and beauty divine."_

"You _both_ will be fine?" asked Wilson.  
House re-read the label. "That's what it says. I guess that means it'll affect Allison, too."

"House, let's think about this rationally. You have _no_ idea what's in that witch's brew.  
It could kill you … or worse …" Wilson's voice trailed off.

"_Duh_ … the last time I checked, there was no _worse_!" House spat sarcastically.  
"_Duh-uh_ … what if Cameron gets sick?"

Visibly shaken by Wilson's suggestion, House looked for medical disclaimers.  
He couldn't risk hurting the woman he loved any more than he already had.

"Warning: Side effects may include burning, itching, oozing, weeping. Not intended for heart patients or those with nervous disorders."

"Well, neither of us has a heart condition or nervous disorder and the side effects are manageable," House said, somewhat relieved,  
"I think we're safe."

"And besides, how bad can "Beauty Divine" be?" he asked as he unstopped the cork and took a sniff.

"Aaaaaa-chooooo!! Oops!!"  
A dollop of potion drenched a large toadstool that grew on the path by his feet. "Damn!"

"How bad can it be? House, you of all people should know how bad it can be," Wilson lectured. "You sneezed! You're probably allergic to that stuff.  
And lord only knows how it'll react with all that Vicodin in your bloodstream? We don't have any epinephrine, so if you're planning on me giving you mouth-to-mouth, you'd better think again!"

"Who are you trying to kid, Wilson? I know you're dying to play tonsil hockey with me!" House smirked.

"Señor Greg? Please, test the potion on me. It would be an honour to lay my life on the line for you."  
Foreman bowed deeply, removing his fedora with a sweeping gesture.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Wilson protested. "I don't think so. If anyone's going to get laid on the line, it'll be me. That's what a BFF does for his brother.  
Now give me the bottle."

"I don't need you to be my lab rat, Wils … "

But before House could finish, Wilson snatched the potion out of his hand and glugged half the bottle before handing it back.

House studied his friend, looking for signs of trouble. "How do you feel?"  
"I don't feel any different. Do I look any different?" Wilson asked anxiously.  
"You still look like an ass to me, " Foreman sneered.

House checked Wilson's vitals.  
"Your pupils are fine … BP and pulse are well within normal and you don't have a temperature.  
Nothing's happening! Maybe it's your metabolism. Let me give it a shot, before it's all gone."

House raised the potion bottle in a mock toast. "Well, here's to us, Allison!"

"House, wait!" warned Wilson. "If you drink that potion, there's no turning back."  
"I know," answered House.

"Your life _won't _be the same."  
"I know."

"Your personality could change completely!" Wilson said, upping the ante.  
"I know!" growled House.

"You'll show your emotions! You'll care about patients! And worst of all …" Wilson paused dramatically. "_You_ … could be NICE!"  
"I know!"

"_But you hate nice!_" Wilson countered.  
_"I KNOW! I KNOW!"_ House shouted irritably. "But I love Allison more," he said softening, as the bottle met his parted lips.

"House, no! Don't do it!" Wilson pleaded.

It was too late. House downed the rest of the potion in one fell swoop.  
His stomach grumbled ominously. It expanded at an alarming rate.

"He's going to explode!" cried Wilson.  
"¡Funcione para la cubierta!" shouted Foreman, as he ducked behind a log.  
"_Fritz_ …"  
"Run for cover!"

"Owww!"  
House doubled over in pain as an odiferous fart shot out of his backside.  
"That feels better!" he chirped.

"I think you grabbed the 'Farty Ever After' potion," Wilson said to Foreman.  
"Maybe it's a dud." Foreman fanned away the fumes with his fedora.

"_A humongous fart?"_ House said with disgust. _"That's it?"_

"The potion's a placebo. _It's snake oil!_ _It's saline! _I _can't_ believe I fell for this crap.  
I'm a man of science. I should have known better," House said, shaking his head at own stupidity.

"You've heard of those patsies who buy swamp land in Florida?"  
House poked at his chest with his thumb.  
"Well, just change the location and you're talking about me! What's _wrong_ with me, Wilson?"

"There's _nothing_ wrong with you, House, you're simply in love," Wilson said quietly.  
"Don't give up. We'll think of something … I promise."

House stared at Wilson with his soulful blue eyes.  
"What if Stacy was right? Maybe there is no 'Happily Ever After' for me and Allison."

Thunder rumbled across the horizon as House looked up at the darkening skies.  
"There's a storm brewing. We'd better get going. Lead the way, Fritz!"

As the first drops of rain kissed the thirsty earth, the potion-drenched toadstool began to glow_._  
An explosion of light and a shower of fairy dust left, in their wake, a sparkling red rose.

The dejected trio trudged westward through the never-ending forest. House shot Foreman an accusatory glare.  
"This is taking too long," he grumbled. "We should have reached the Hummer by now!"

"You mean we're lost? In the forest? In the dark?" Wilson cried.

They fought to remain upright in the blustery winds.  
"I don't want to die. _I don't want to die_. _I DON'T WANT TO DIE!__"_ Wilson wailed.

House pulled his suit jacket over his head. "Shut up, Wilson! You're not gonna die!" he snapped.

Wilson watched as liquid pooled around his feet. _"It's the potion! I'm melting!"  
_"Listen to me! You're_ not _melting! That's _not_ a puddle of bodily fluids! It's_ raining, _you idiot!"

Wilson patted his body and found that he was, indeed, intact.  
"Oh…" he chuckled self-consciously, but quickly stopped when he noticed his friend's morose expression.

"I'm sorry, House. You'll be home with Cameron before you know it. Things just seem bad because it's dark and raining and we're lost and your father hired a sleazy criminal to drug you and destroy your marriage."

Foreman hissed at Wilson.

"Was that your pathetic attempt to cheer me up?" House snarked.  
"Did it work?" Wilson smiled.

"Things will look better in the morning, you'll see," he said reassuringly.  
"Hey look! We can wait out the storm in that barn over there."

They slipped inside the immaculate barn.  
While the others watched the worsening storm, Wilson fashioned a bed for himself from some bales of straw.

"_Well, since my baby left me … I found a new place to dwell …"_ he sang wearily, pausing frequently to yawn.  
_"It's down at the end …" _

"_It's down at the end?_" House repeated.

"… _of Lonely Street …" _Wilson continued.  
"That's better …" murmured House.

"I'm coming, Lisa!" Wilson called out, to no one in particular.  
"That's not the next line, Wilson. Are you all right?" House asked.

"Of course I'm alright. What makes you aaaasssskkk….?"  
Wilson collapsed in a heap on the straw-covered floor.

"Hey, boss? Have you ever noticed how bushy Señor James' eyebrows are?  
Let's wax them while he's asleep!" Foreman suggested enthusiastically.

House glared at Foreman, as he poked at his friend with the tip of his cane. "Wilson? C'mon, wake up. Uh-oh."  
"Uh-oh, what?" asked Foreman.

"Is the barn spinning?"  
"No, Señor Greg."

"Uh-oh." House passed out next to Wilson.  
"Señor Greg? Señor James?" Foreman shook House, then Wilson. "Wake up!"

"Help! ¡Ayuda!" Foreman shrieked. "Someone help us please!"

oOoOo

"Your tea, Lord General House, Lady Blythe …"  
"Thank you, Jeeves."

"Will that be all, Sir?"  
"I believe so. Goodnight, Jeeves."

"Goodnight, Milord … Milady."

Cameron peeked in the drawing room, watching the couple quietly chat as they enjoyed their tea in front of the cozy fireplace.  
_They're so different when they're alone … they really do love each other …_

John House stood as she entered. "Princess Allison. We missed you at dinner."  
"What is it, darling? Have you heard from Greg?" asked his wife.

"Not a word, Lady Blythe. That's what I wanted to talk with you about.  
Lord General? I've been thinking about what you said … and I've decided to take your advice and do what's best for me."

"That's excellent news, Your Highness!" he beamed. John noticed his wife studying his jubilant expression.  
"Of course …" he continued somberly, "I know I speak for Lady Blythe when I say how sad we _both _are that you're leaving Gregory …"

"Leaving Greg?" Cameron puzzled.  
"I'm not _leaving_ my husband … I'm _leaving _to _find_ him.  
And when I do, we're going home to CRIPPLED, where we belong.  
I should have never insisted that Greg bring me here!"

Cameron limped out of the room with House's parents in close pursuit.  
"Allison, please!" begged Lady Blythe."

"Don't be rash, Princess. It's not safe to go searching for Gregory in this storm!" warned the Lord General.  
She flung the front door open, only to be pushed back by driving winds and torrential rain.

The crackle of thunder shook the house.  
Cameron shielded her eyes from a blinding light, then crumpled to the floor.

"Princess Allison!" John cried, as he knelt beside Cameron.  
He felt for a pulse, then looked up at his wife.

"What do we do, Blythe? … She's fainted!"

**_... by daisyb10_**


	16. Ch 11: A Changed Man, Part 1

**_A Tale by the Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 11: A Changed Man, Part 1**_

The violent storm that pummeled Cape Wooster had weakened as midnight approached, but it continued to rain throughout the night as the coastal Kingdom slept.

Lord John and Lady Blythe kept watch over Cameron until they retired for the evening at eleven o'clock,  
while miles away, Foreman fitfully dozed, consumed with worry for his new found friends.

As the clock struck twelve, Cameron, Wilson and House, were bathed in a mystical flash of light. In a blink of an eye, the darkness returned, and they all rested peacefully until dawn's first light.

"Here he is, Sis … this is the man I was telling you about."  
"He's dreamy, Billie Jo, I could watch him forever."

"Gatitos, gatitos … what about me? Have you forsaken me for another?"  
"Oh no, Fritz, we _love_ you!" The two buxom young girls, wearing red gingham shirts and Daisy Duke cut-offs,  
giggled as they scurried back to Foreman's side.

He smiled seductively while caressing their shoulders.  
"I cannot believe my good fortune. To wake up in the company of three beautiful sisters is every man's dream come true.  
You're exquisite, my gatitos. Have you ever considered modeling careers?"

"Well actually, Fritz …" the blonde began.  
"Betty Jo … Bobbie Jo …" whispered the raven-haired sister, "he's waking up!"

House grumbled and groaned as he began to stir. He covered his eyes, hoping to block out the nauseatingly cheerful rays of sunshine that shone into the barn through the open doorway.

"Good morning, sleepyhead …"  
"Arrrgh!" House shouted with a start. He peeked through his fingers at the ravishing brunette who hovered too closely beside him.

"I'm Billie Jo and these are my sisters ... Bobbie Jo ..." A pretty platinum blonde blew House a kiss. "And Betty Jo."  
A striking redhead shyly waved. "Good morning!" they sing-songed in unison.

House's head throbbed mercilessly as if he'd been on an all-night bender, but curiously, he couldn't remember any event which would have warranted such repercussions.

_"Dash it! My head …!"_  
House willed himself to open his eyes, as he brushed off some straw that was glued to his face. "Good morning, to you all."

As he struggled to stand on his wobbly legs, House scanned the cavernous barn. "Might I inquire as to my whereabouts?"

"You're in my Daddy's barn.  
Billie Jo found you here when she came in to milk the cows this morning," volunteered Bobbie Jo. "What's your name?"

"My name? My name. Ah, yes, now I recall. My name is Doctor Gregory House."

"I just _love _your accent. It's _so_ sexy. Are you from England?" she asked.  
"Apparently so …" muttered House, incredibly confused.  
"Would you be so kind as to direct me to the lavatory? I'd like to wash up."

"Lavatory?" Bobbie Jo stared blankly at House.  
"He means the _bathroom_, silly!" Betty Jo translated.

"Oh …" Bobbie Jo laughed. "We don't have a bathroom in the barn, but I did fetch a pail of water for you."  
She pointed to a large wooden bucket on the floor nearby. "And I brought a fresh towel, too."

"Thank you, Miss Bradley."  
"He's _such _a gentleman!" Betty Jo whispered to her sister.

House splashed his face with the refreshingly brisk water and dried himself off with the towel.  
"That was splendid. I feel like a new man!"

He shrieked as he caught sight of his reflection in the water.  
_"Good Lord! What happened to my face?!"_

It was as if time had stopped twenty years ago.

A thirty year-old House looked back at him.  
There was nary a wrinkle marring his rosy complexion and his blue eyes shone with good health.  
His thinning grey hair had returned to its former glory.  
House's thick chestnut locks were impeccably cut and his long wavy bangs were coaxed into place with the aid of perfumed pomade.

He gingerly patted his baby-soft cheeks.  
_Could it be …? Did it work …?  
__My skin … it's so smooth … my beard's gone and so are my wrinkles.  
__It's years since I've been blessed with so much hair…_

Still slender and tall, his body felt fit with the firmness of youth.  
_Taut, round buttocks? My gluts are amazing!  
__And my legs … my thighs are well-defined …  
_  
"Egad!" House shouted. "My leg! It's healed! I'm … I'm …" he stuttered.  
"Gorgeous!" purred Foreman.

"Fritz? Are you all right?" House was so overcome with his transformation, he could barely manage to speak.  
"Of course, Señor Greg," Foreman replied in a sulking tone. "As you surely recall, _I _was not permitted to take the potion."

"Wilson …" House murmured, looking for his friend.

"You need to relax Doctor House," warned a worried Billie Jo.  
"Let me rub your shoulders!" Bobbie Jo volunteered.  
"I want to do it!" Betty Jo cried, jostling her sister aside. "Let me!"  
"But now I don't have anything to rub, " Billie Jo pouted.  
"How about his chest?' suggested Bobbie Jo.  
"Sounds yummy!" Billie Jo gushed, as she licked her lips.  
"Get in line, sis!" warned Betty Jo, un-buttoning House's shirt.

"Ladies, ladies …please." House gently pushed Betty Jo's hands aside.  
"While I'm sure I'd enjoy your kind ministrations, I really must decline. I'm terribly worried about my friend.  
Have you seen him? He's a rather handsome young doctor named James …"

"_James? Who are you calling James?_ _I'm Elvis, baby and I'm all shook up_!"  
"_Wilson, where are you?"_

Wilson leapt into view, wearing his new jet black hair in a fashionable duck tail.  
"Look at me, House! I'm a dancing machine! Listen to this! I can sing!  
When we get back to CRIPPLED, I'm auditioning for Princeton's Got Talent!"  
_  
A well … I bless my soul  
__What's a wrong with me?_

No longer a tuneless caterwauler, Wilson's rich baritone voice and pouty good looks were the stuff legends were made of.

_I'm itching like a man on a fuzzy tree.  
__My friends say I'm actin' like a wild bug._

He was dressed all in white, in a gold studded jumpsuit with a matching cape.  
An intricately beaded American bald eagle, embellished with ruby and sapphire-toned crystals, was emblazoned across his chest.

_I'm in love …  
I'm all shook up!_

As Wilson sang and strummed on his Gibson guitar, his swiveling hips ignited the Bradley sisters into a torrid frenzy.

_Mmm, mmm ... Oh, oh ... Yeah, yeah ... I'm all shook up!_

Everyone burst into applause.  
Except Foreman, that is, who collapsed on the floor in gales of laughter.

"That was smashing, Wilson!" House said enthusiastically.

"House, are you all right? You look amazing! Just like you, only better!"  
Wilson stared in awe at his handsome friend.  
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I've got to hand it to Stacy. That witch _sure _can cook!"

"Indeed, she can! And that's not all, my good man. It appears my leg is completely healed!"  
House cast his cane aside for dramatic effect.

"Incredible!" Wilson watched as House hopped from foot to foot, perfectly balanced and free from pain.  
"You look twenty years younger and your new voice is quite attractive is a refined sort of way. Girls _dig_ British accents!"

"So I've heard, but there's only one girl for me," House grinned. "I wish I knew what was in that potion."  
"Me, too!" agreed Wilson.

Foreman sighed with exasperation as he listened to his bubble-headed friends.  
"Thank goodness _I'm _still in possession of my faculties …"

He removed the empty bottle of potion from House's suit jacket pocket.  
"Ingredients include Ketamine, Jimmy Snacks, Marmite, amphetamines, caffeine, collagen, Vitamin D, Ascorbic Acid, artificial flavours and colouring and proprietary tonics and stimulants."

"Jimmy Snacks? No wonder I'm so happy!" Wilson cried, shaking his booty for his adoring fans.  
House smiled at his friend's antics. "And the Marmite explains this _extremely_ cool accent."

"Señor Greg? Listen to this …  
_'To make the effects of this potion permanent, the drinker must obtain his true love's kiss by midnight'_."

"Midnight?" House questioned. "Why does everything always happen at midnight?"

"Pick me! I'll be your true love!" begged Billie Jo.  
"No,_ I'll_ be your true love! I love you the most!" Bobbie Jo pleaded.  
"I'll be true …" Betty Jo said unconvincingly. "At least as true as I can …"

"Thank you, for your very kind offers of help, dear ladies, but I've already found my one true love."  
"Ohhhh …." The girls sighed with disappointment.

Foreman twirled his moustache slyly.  
"Your Princess will be most satisfied with you now, if the reactions of my gatitos are any indication."

"He's right!" Wilson agreed. "You're handsome, debonair, British and a doctor! You're every girl's dream!  
Even though inside you're the same old gruff, mean-spirited …"

"Am I, Wilson?" House asked glumly. "Am I still the same ogre I've always been?"  
"I don't know …" Wilson answered softly.

House nodded his acceptance.  
"We've come too far to back out now. At least _you're _still as annoying as ever," he smirked.  
"That I am!" Wilson smiled.

"Indeed! Look out, my darling Princess … here comes the new me!  
But first things first. I need to get out of these filthy clothes."

"Oooo!" squealed the Bradley sisters, in utter delight.

**_... by daisyb10_**


	17. Ch 11: A Changed Man, Part 2

**_A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 11: A Changed Man, Part 2**_

"_**EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!"**_

"What in the_ hell_ was that?"John dropped his newspaper and jumped to his feet.  
"Did somebody scream, Jeeves?"

"If I am not mistaken, Milord, I believe the cry emanated from Princess Allison's room."  
Jeeves followed his employer's gaze upwards.

"Why on earth is she screaming like a banshee? Did my wandering son come home?"

"I'm afraid the cause of the Princess' distress is unknown to me at this time," Jeeves calmly explained.  
"To the best of my knowledge, Dr. House has not yet returned to New London. Do you wish me to investigate, Milord?"

"Please … and hurry! I'll wake Lady Blythe and we'll meet you upstairs. This may require a woman's touch."

"Indeed, Lord General. Indeed, it may."

oOoOo

"I just _love_ your duck tail!" Bobbie Jo gushed.  
"Can I strum your guitar?" asked Betty Jo.  
"Teach me to dance …" Billie Jo purred.

Wilson basked in the attention of his adoring fans. "Girls … girls … why don't I teach you the twist?"

"The fairer sex can be cruelly fickle." House chuckled, noticing Foreman's morose expression.  
"I do believe you've lost your gatitos!"  
"They will come to their senses. Of this, I am sure," Foreman said flatly, then walked away.

"Wilson? I'm afraid you cannot conduct your class. It's time to say our farewells."  
"Awww … do we have to?" Wilson whined.

"Yes, we do." House said firmly. "Excuse me, ladies, would you have a phone I might borrow, please?  
"You can use mine." Betty Jo offered her iPhone to House.  
"Thank you, Miss Bradley."

Wilson disentangled himself from Billie Jo's arms. "Are you calling Cameron?"  
"I shan't, just yet." House pulled out his wallet and hunted for his AAA card.

"Hullo? AAA? Right-o! I'm calling to report a lost Hummer.  
Indeed! I agree. It _is _akin to misplacing an elephant …  
What's that you say?  
Yes. The vehicle is equipped with OnStar.  
You can? You will?  
That's frightfully kind of you.  
Absolutely. The license plate reads 'LRDGNRL'.  
Toodlepip!"

House smiled with relief.  
"They've located the Hummer! A serviceman will be here within the hour and drive us to our vehicle."  
"But how will they know where to find us, Boss?" Foreman asked. "_We_ don't even know where we are."  
"And whose fault is that?" Wilson sneered at Foreman.  
"_Wilson, that's enough."_  
House held up his hand. "Miss Bradley's iPhone has GPS."

Wilson tried a different tack. "We can drop Fritz off on the way home …"

"Please, Señor Greg, I have not yet repaid my dept to you," Foreman began.  
"I would be honoured if you would allow me to accompany you to New London."

"Certainly, Fritz, if that is your wish. Then we shall just stop at your home, to allow you to change," House said, picking up the phone once more.

Foreman smugly glanced sideways at Wilson.

"Who are you calling now?" Wilson asked.  
"Jeeves." House said absentmindedly while he keyed in his parents' phone number.  
Wilson persisted. "Why Jeeves? Why not Cameron?"  
"Because _I'm_ not me. The _old_ me. The _American_ me." House sighed impatiently.  
"As soon as I open my mouth, Allison will know something's wrong."

"Can't you just fake an American accent?" Wilson pushed.  
House stared at Wilson in disbelief. "Do you know how _bloody _difficult that is to do?"

House set down the phone to focus on Wilson. "I _have_ to speak with Allison in person.  
This …" House swept his hand over his body, "is not the kind of news you break over the phone."

"Don't you think you're blowing this out of proportion? Wilson questioned.  
"You've got to remember, for most of her life Cameron's body has transformed every evening at sunset."

"She's used to change!" Wilson said with confidence.  
"It won't upset her at all! You'll see!"

oOoOo

"_**EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!"**_

Jeeves knocked on the door of Cameron's bedroom.  
"Your Highness? Princess Allison? Might I ask your permission to enter your room?"

"Go away!" Cameron sobbed.  
"It is apparent to me, you are in great distress. Please, Your Highness, let me be of assistance.  
Are you ill? Shall I summon a physician?"

"No, I'm not ill."  
"I am greatly relieved to hear this good news. But if I might be permitted to ask, why are you screaming, if not from pain?"

"You might as well see." Cameron said quietly. "You may enter, Jeeves."  
"Thank you, Your Highness."

Jeeves opened the door with some trepidation.  
Macintosh lay curled up on the floor basking in the bright morning sunlight that poured in the window.

"Princess?"  
Cameron sat on the side of her made-up bed, her hands clasped in her lap, staring off into space.

She started to rise.

"Let me assist you with your crutch, Your Highness …"  
"There's no need, Jeeves."

She walked towards Jeeves carrying a pair of stilettos.

"Your Highness, you're … you're …"  
For the first time in his life, Jeeves was at a loss for words.

"Healed." Cameron said quietly, finishing his sentence.

But as she neared, Jeeves noticed something was amiss.  
She stopped, facing him, scant inches away.

"How tall are you, Jeeves?"  
"Six-foot-four, Princess Allison."

Cameron bent down and put on the four-inch heels.  
And looked Jeeves _straight _in the eye.

oOoOo

"Shall I presume there's a cause for this frightful delay?"  
House looked anxiously at his watch as he waited with Wilson in Foreman's driveway.

"Who knows …"  
Wilson was far too busy admiring the gold lamé lining of his beaded cape to think about Foreman.  
"House? Can I wear this to the ball? I kinda like this jumpsuit."

"You most certainly may _not!_ It's vulgar attire!  
And when we arrive at the manor, be certain to wash that… that … lubricant from your hair!" House grumbled.  
"Aha! There's Fritz. _Oh, my word_ …_!"_

"And you thought _my _outfit was bad," guffawed Wilson.

Foreman hurried along his garden path, dressed in black velvet pants, a cropped waist-length jacket trimmed in brilliant gold braid, and a black satin shirt and bolo. The bolo was secured by a solid gold cat with marquise emerald eyes. His signature boots and a velvet fedora completed the rakish ensemble.

"My apologies for the delay, Boss, but I wanted to look my best for your wedding celebration."  
Foreman jumped into the back seat of the Hummer, out of breath from his rushed preparations.

"Perchance, did I leave the impression this was a costume ball?  
Drat-it, Fritz! Have you taken leave of your senses?" House asked, aghast at Foreman's appearance.

"¿Usted es diciéndome cómo vestirme? _This_ is my finest evening attire!" Foreman said haughtily, taking great offense.

"_Piffle!"_ House revved the engine and sped down the driveway.  
"And _yes_, I _am_ telling you how to dress! You look like a deranged mariachi!"

oOoOo

"Allison, what happened?"  
"I don't know, Lady Blythe. The last thing I remember was carrying my suitcase to the front door last night."

Lady Blythe smiled gently at the bewildered daughter-in-law she had grown to love.  
"You fainted, my dear. Jeeves carried you upstairs and you slept through the night. Go on, darling …"

"When I woke up this morning, I was feeling just fine. And that's when I noticed it." Cameron stopped and looked down at her legs.  
"Noticed what?" asked John.

"_My legs!_ _They had grown! And my hip dysplasia was cured!" _she cried.

The Lord General paced anxiously.  
_What's happening? This must be the work of the Fairy Godmother!  
__What's she up to? I've come up with a plan. I've done what she's ordered!  
I'm working on breaking up Gregory and Allison … I need time! More time!  
I need those pictures from Fritz! _

"But it's wonderful news that you're no longer crippled! Surely that must make you happy, my dear?" asked Blythe.  
"Of course it does, Lady Blythe! But it's the _way _it happened that bothers me."

Cameron struggled to gather her thoughts. "And then there's my closet …"  
"Your closet?" Jeeves asked, returning to the room with a cup of tea for Cameron.

"Yes, my closet. When I went to get dressed, all my old clothes were gone.  
It was filled with beautiful gowns and high heels, like this …"  
Cameron stood up to model her green velvet gown and sparkling stilettos.  
"They all fit me perfectly and I'm six inches taller!"

"What will Greg think when he sees how I've changed?"

Lady Blythe embraced Cameron.  
"Listen to me, darling. If I know my son, and I most certainly do, he'll be overcome with joy that you're no longer crippled.  
He only wants the best for you. You _must_ know that, dear."

Cameron nodded and wiped a tear from her eye.

"And as far as your height?" Blythe stepped back to admire Cameron's new figure. "Greg loves _you!_  
Whether you're 5-foot-6 or 6 feet tall, it will make no difference to him, Allison, I can assure you of that!"

Cameron hugged her mother-in-law. "Thank you, Lady Blythe. I just wish I knew where my husband is …"

"Ahem." Jeeves cleared his throat.  
"If I might interrupt, Princess Allison. While I was in the midst of preparing your tea, I received a telephone communication from Doctor House. It appears he had car trouble …"

"With my Hummer?" groused John.  
"What does it matter, John!" Blythe scolded. "Please continue, Jeeves."  
"Very good, Milady."

"It appears he had car trouble, but is on his way home. He expects to arrive within the next hour."

"One hour?" John huffed. "We're already late! King Bertram's expecting us."  
"I'm not leaving until I speak with my husband!" Cameron said firmly.

"Might I suggest a compromise, Lord General?" Jeeves asked.  
"Rather than delay your departure in anticipation of Dr. House's arrival, it would be my pleasure to attend to his needs."

"Hmmm … that would work, Jeeves." John rubbed his chin as he assessed Jeeves' suggestion.  
"You can send Gregory to the palace as soon as he's dressed for the ball."

"Indeed, Milord."

"Agreed, Princess Allison?"  
"Agreed, Lord General House."

**_... by daisyb10_**


	18. Ch 12: The Swap

**_A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 12: The Swap**_

"The young master returns …" Jeeves muttered, upon hearing the familiar rumble of the Lord General's Hummer pulling into the porte-cochere.

"Dr. House? Dr. Wilson?" Jeeves stepped outside to greet the men. "What an _extraordinary _transformation!"  
"Indeed. For us, too." House agreed. "We paid a call to the Fairy Godmother and took the liberty of indulging in one of her potions."

"An event you so kindly shared with me, sir," Jeeves acknowledged.  
"If I might be permitted to say, I find your new accent most pleasing, Dr. House."

"Thank you." House smiled.

"And wait until you hear me sing, Jeeves. _I sound just like Elvis!"_ Wilson added enthusiastically.  
"I can scarcely contain my excitement, sir," Jeeves commented dryly.

"Ahem." House cleared his throat with amusement. "Jeeves, may I present our friend, Dr. Eric F. Foreman."

"How do you do?" Jeeves eyed Forman from head to toe. "Excuse my boldness, Dr. Foreman, but your attire …  
the last time I saw such a magnificent ensemble was at the royal palace of Santiago de Compostela."

"You have a discerning eye, my good man," Foreman purred as he gloated.  
"Thank you, sir." Jeeves replied proudly.

"Jeeves, did you do as I asked?" House asked anxiously, ignoring Foreman.

"Indeed, I did, Dr. House. I did not impart any knowledge of your transformation to Princess Allison. Her Highness recently departed for King Bertram's palace in the company of your parents."

"Excellent. We shall head for the palace immediately as well, as soon as _we_ …"  
House glared pointedly at Wilson, "shower and change our clothes."

"Very good, sir."

oOoOo

"_Jeeves? JEEVES?"_ shouted a very damp House, as he stood in his bedroom with a bath towel wrapped loosely around his hips.  
"May I be of assistance, Dr. House?"

"Yes, you may, Jeeves." House stepped aside, offering Jeeves an unimpeded view of the contents of his closet.

Crisply ironed dress shirts, the finest silk ties, tailored suits, designer evening wear, polished leather shoes and accessories all awaited his perusal.

"What, pray tell, is this?" House asked, the pitch of his voice, rising slightly with anxiety.  
"All my clothes are gone. My blue jeans, my rocker tees, my tennis shoes … _everything_ is gone!"

"House, I have a problem!" Wilson shouted, bursting into the room, similarly clad in a fluffy white towel.  
"Get in line …" muttered House.  
"I went to change like you said, and all my clothes are gone! My closet's _full_ of Elvis jumpsuits!"  
"_Surely, you exaggerate!"_

"No! There are red ones, blue ones, black ones …" Wilson rambled.  
"_Wilson …"  
_"Sparkly ones, fringed ones, beaded ones …"  
"_Wilson …"  
_"Satin, velvet, suede, leather …"

"_Enough Wilson, enough!_ Just select the most conservative costume you can find.  
That will have to suffice," House sighed wearily as Wilson left the room. "What is happening to us?"

"If I might venture a guess, sir, I suspect all this … " Jeeves gestured to the walk-in closet,  
"is intended to facilitate your transformation. Clothes _do_ make the man, after all, Dr. House."

House reached into the closet and selected an outfit.  
With a grey suit in one hand and a starched white shirt in the other, he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

"Fine! I'll wear this."  
"Very good, sir." Jeeves said with a sneer, turning away.

Jeeves' reaction did not go unnoticed.

"Don't you like this suit, Jeeves?" House questioned intently.  
"Yes, sir. It's quite satisfactory," Jeeves replied through pursed lips.

House stepped into the dressing room to change, but quickly returned.

"Alright. Out with it! Why don't you like this suit, Jeeves?" House asked firmly.

Jeeves examined the suit.  
"It is not a matter of disliking the suit, sir. The wool is of the finest quality. The cut is superb and the shade of grey is quite pleasing to the eye. It is just, in my opinion, a tad informal for an occasion such as this."

"If I might …" Jeeves began, "_this_ tuxedo, would make a most favourable impression on your wife, Princess Allison."

House eyed the offering. "Poppycock, Jeeves! Me? Dress like a primate? In an Armani tuxedo? How absurd!" he scoffed.  
"As you wish, sir." Jeeves replied and quietly left the room.

_One half hour later …_

"The keys to your father's Mercedes, Dr. House."  
"Thank you, Jeeves."

Jeeves smiled with satisfaction as a tuxedoed House drove off to the palace with Wilson and Foreman.

oOoOo

Though the trappings of royalty held no interest for House, the sight of King Bertram's white marble palace sparkling brilliantly in the summer sunshine, took his breath away. As they drove slowly through the courtyard, House, Wilson and Foreman could not help but notice the attention they garnered.

"Everyone is looking at us, Boss," Foreman said, returning the waves of the workers assembling the spectator tents. "It's probably my outfit!"  
"It's probably Daddy's convertible!" House nodded to the TV crews checking the satellite feeds.  
"_It's probably me!"_ Wilson shouted, winking back at the women who were unloading flowers.

House parked the Mercedes by the palace steps and approached the security guard.  
"Good afternoon, sir. May I see some ID, please?"

"With pleasure." House handed the guard his security pass. "I'm Doctor Gregory House and these are my colleagues,  
Dr. James Wilson and Dr. Eric F. Foreman. If you would please tell my wife, Princess Doctor Allison Cameron,  
that her husband is here to see her, I would be forever in your debt."

"Certainly, sir. I'll announce your arrival."

oOoOo

"_**EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!"**_

The lady-in-waiting jumped back in alarm. "What is it, Your Highness?"  
"I'm sorry, Marie. I was startled by my reflection in the mirror."

Cameron's scream echoed throughout the courtyard.

"_Allison?"_ House shouted, as he tore up the front steps of the palace.  
Cameron ran to her balcony. _"Greg, is that you?"_

"_Allison!"  
_"_Greg!"_

House ran down the hallway towards the east staircase.  
Cameron skipped down the staircase from the second floor.

"_Allison!"  
_"_Greg!"_

Cameron dashed down the front steps of the palace.  
House flew up the stairs to the second floor and ran into the first room he saw.

"Allison?"  
A cloaked figure hovered in front of the bedroom window. As it turned, it shed its lavender robe.

"Fairy Godmother?"

Stacy smiled lasciviously. "_Hello_, handsome!"

oOoOo

"Cameron?" Cameron stopped and stared at the familiar young man.  
"Wilson? Is that you?"

Wilson held out his arms and embraced his friend.  
"Cameron, you ran out the door! You're cured! The potion worked on you, too! Just like the label said it would.

'_If one of you drinks this, you both will be fine.  
__Happiness, comfort and beauty divine.'_

And you're tall! Really, tall. _Really, really_, tall. _Really, really, really_ …"

"Enough! Wilson, you're babbling! I _know_ that I'm tall. What potion? What are you talking about?" Cameron asked.

"House and I split a bottle of 'Happily Ever After' potion that we stole from the Fairy Godmother. It was so cool!  
You should have seen us. Me and House. House and me. On a whirlwind adventure. And I can sing! Do you want to hear me sing?"

"Not right now, Wilson. You said that you and Greg drank a magic potion?"  
"Yep. And now, I hate to brag …" Wilson blushed. "We've both been transformed into sexy, hot men!"

"I can see that. Did you say _both _you and Greg?" Cameron eyed the flamboyantly attractive man standing just to the left of Wilson. _Could it be?_

"Greg? Is that you?"  
"I can be any man you desire, Your Highness. It would be my honour to fulfill your fantasies."

"In your dreams, Fritz. Cameron, I'd like to introduce Dr. Eric F. Forman. He's a stray we picked up on our trip.  
Fritz, this is Princess Doctor Allison Cameron."

Foreman bowed and kissed Cameron's hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. Your husband speaks constantly of his love for you."

"Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you." Cameron smiled. "Wilson, where's Greg?"  
"He just ran inside! He's looking for you!"

oOoOo

Chase stood on the balcony of his father's palace, admiring the glorious view of Cape Wooster. With its lush, rolling hillsides and sparkling Atlantic coast, it was a magical Kingdom that soon would be his.

The fact that no one recognized him as the Prince of Cape Wooster did not come as a surprise to Chase.  
He hadn't been home since he left for boarding school almost twenty years ago.  
_I left as a boy … I returned as a man …_

"Greg?" called a sweet voice.  
Chase stepped into the hallway. "Yes, it's me, my darling Allison."

"Greg, you look so different." Cameron shyly studied the attractive young man.  
_Such beautiful blonde hair. Such a handsome face._

"Have you shrunk? And what happened to your voice?"

_Have I shrunk? _Chase seethed._  
The Fairy Godmother neglected to tell me the Princess was an Amazon! I'm 5-foot-10 and she's towering over me!  
I must stay calm … breathe … breathe …_

Chase took Cameron's hands in his.  
"The potion might have changed a lot of things about me, Allison, but it didn't diminish my love for you."

"Princess Allison? Prince Robert …?" The Lord General asked, as he entered the corridor from an adjoining room.

"Prince Robert is dining with King Bertram, Dad." Chase offered, awkwardly trying to deflect John's questions.

"I know this visit got off to a bad start, _Dad,_ but I hope you'll give me a second chance.  
It would mean so much to Allison and me if you'd bless our marriage!" Chase said eagerly as he slipped his arm around Cameron's waist.  
"Why don't we all go outside and enjoy this glorious weather?"

oOoOo

"I must insist you release me!" demanded House, as a dresser barricaded the bedroom door with a wave of Stacy's wand.

"Don't you want to see your wife, darling? Come … over here ..."

House pounded on the leaded glass window. _"Allison! Allison!"  
_But his heart broke as his gaze focused on a distant balcony.  
There stood his Cameron.  
In another man's arms.

"_Allison! Allison!" _he cried, once more.

"_Allison! Allison!" _Stacy mocked, then softened.  
"I think it's about time you stopped hurting your Princess."

House sighed with sorrow as he turned to face Stacy.  
"I just wanted her to be happy."

"And now she can be." Stacy said, stroking House's cheek tenderly.  
"She's finally found the prince of her dreams. It's time for you both to move on."

"But look at me!" House exclaimed, as he shoved Stacy's hand away from his face. "Look at what I've done for her!"

Stacy spun around angrily.  
"Stop living in a fairy tale, House!  
Allison's a _princess_ and you're nothing but a crippled old ogre!  
That's something no potion will _ever_ change."

House looked out the window at Cameron and Chase.  
"But … I love her …"

The warmth of Stacy's breath caressed his ear.  
"If you truly love her, Gregory … you'll let her go."

**_... by daisyb10_**


	19. Ch 13: Discovery At The Drones

**_A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 13: Discovery At The Drones**_

"Here's a little something for all the broken hearts in our audience tonight."  
House looked around the deserted pub as Wilson settled himself on a barstool.  
"Let's dim the lights … oops, I forgot … it's only two in the afternoon."

A lone spotlight shone on Wilson.  
"I'd like to dedicate this song … to House … and Cameron."

_Maybe I didn't treat you  
__Quite as good as I should have  
__Maybe I didn't love you  
__Quite as often as I could have  
__Little things I should have said and done  
__I just never took the time  
_  
"What can I get for you? Fritz, your usual?"  
"Si, a sangria spritzer, por favor."  
"And for you?"  
"A bottle of Lagavulin, two glasses, no ice.  
"Comin' right up."

"Fritz, please forgive me for what I'm about to say, but I simply _cannot _imagine you frequenting this dive, considering your opulent lifestyle.  
This pub is … well, it is simply _appalling_!"

Foreman laughed. "That it is, Boss. But you must admit, it _does_ have character."  
"Indeed," House agreed.

"The Drones offers a certain anonymity that is most desirable to some." Foreman leaned back in his chair.  
"This is _not _the sort of place where everyone knows your name, mi amigo."

An imposing shadow darkened their table.  
"Here you go, boys. One sangria spritzer, one bottle of Lagavulin, two glasses, no ice."

"Thank you, m-i-i-i-s-s-s-t-t-t …" House stammered, utterly confused as to the sex of their server.  
"The name's Doris."

_Maybe I didn't hold you  
__All those lonely, lonely times  
__And I guess I never told you  
__I'm so happy that you're mine  
__If I made you feel like second best  
__Girl, I'm sorry I was blind.  
__  
_"Wilson's voice is as smooth as this 20-year-old scotch. Fritz, you said you dabbled in the entertainment industry.  
Do you think he has a shot at stardom?"

A million inappropriate responses flew through his mind, but Foreman restrained his tongue admirably.  
"Señor James has the potential to be the greatest crooner of all time, but he needs a new image. Elvis has been done to death."

"C'mon everybody, sing along … you know the words …" Wilson urged, but to his great consternation, his audience consisted of House,  
Foreman, Doris and Sharky, the pianist. "House? Foreman? Will you sing with me, please?"

"Let's give it a lash, shall we?" said House.  
House and Foreman linked arms and swayed to the melancholy music as they joined in the chorus with Wilson.

_Tell me, tell me that your sweet love hasn't died  
__Give me, give me one more chance  
__To keep you satisfied, satisfied._

The heartfelt lyrics somehow comforted House as he dreamt of what might have been with Cameron.

_You were always on my mind …  
__You were always on my mind._

"That was beautiful, Doc …" sniffled Sharkey. "Ya really got talent!"  
"Yeah, I oughtta kill ya. You made my mascara run," said a teary Doris.

"You touched me, my friend. Scotch?" House offered.  
"Thanks, House. Sharkey … Doris …" Wilson downed his drink. "Thank you."

"If you don't mind me prying, handsome …" Doris began, addressing House. "Why the long face?"  
"It's a long, tragic tale, Doris."  
"I ain't got nowhere to go."

House poured himself another shot. "I made a dreadful mistake! If only I had been man enough to stand up to Vogler.  
I should never have rescued Allison from Dewey Screwem.  
And now, the only way I can repair the damage I've wrought, is to end my marriage and set her free."

"Are you insane, House? I can't believe after all you've been through that you'd throw in the towel at the first sign of trouble.  
And as far as the damage you feel you've _'wrought'_, you've repaired it by taking the potion. Cameron's healed. We saw her!"

"He's right …" concurred Foreman.

"That is my one consolation, my one good deed. But the fact remains, she desires another."  
House swirled his scotch absentmindedly.

"_How can you say that?_ _Cameron loves you!"_ cried Wilson.

"If only you were right. But I saw her, standing on the balcony, wrapped in another man's arms.  
She was utterly enthralled with her Prince Charming." House smiled sadly at his friend. "She was happy, Wilson."

"What did the guy look like?" Doris asked, as she vaguely swiped a filthy rag over a nearby table.

House thought for a moment, trying to conjure an image of Cameron's suitor.  
"Hmm … he was tall, blonde, handsome … and young, very young."

"He sounds so familiar …" Doris muttered.

"No one can be _that _good looking, Señor Greg," said Foreman.  
"I beg to differ, Fritz."

Doris sat at their table, overwhelming the men with her tawdry fragrance.  
"Well, if he's the guy I'm thinking of, he's drop-dead gorgeous! His face looks like it was sculpted by Michelangelo."

House tossed back the bronze elixir in his glass. "That makes me feel _so_ much better, Doris."  
"Hold that thought, sweetie. I'll be back in a sec … I gotta customer …"

Wilson leaned across the table. "House? Do you still love Cameron?"  
House nodded as he met Wilson's sympathetic eyes. "And I love her enough to let her go …"

oOoOo

House watched Doris wend her way to the door, navigating a path through the haphazardly strewn chairs to talk with a mysterious man, clad in an ankle-length cloak.

"Excuse me, Doris, is _she_ here?"  
"She's in the back .. . and there's another guy with her."

The man glanced warily around the pub, then strode quickly to rear of the building, brushing his hood off his head as he knocked on the door.

House gasped.  
_Dad? What's he doing here?_

"Wilson, Foreman … something's amiss! My wayward father just walked in and disappeared into the back room."

"That chamber is a place of dark deeds, Señor."  
"Would there be a way we might …?" House hesitated.  
"Spy on your father?" Foreman asked.  
"I'm ashamed to admit it, but yes."

"The room has but one window, Señor. I would recommend we gather our intelligence outside."

oOoOo

"We can hide here, Boss … behind the shrub roses."  
"Owww … my fringe is caught on something!"  
"Hush, Wilson. Don't say a word …"

House peeked in the leaded glass window as his father came into view.

"Fairy Godmother. Prince Robert."  
_Prince Robert? That's him! That's Allison's Prince Charming!_

Stacy was perched on a desk, filing her fingernails with obvious boredom.  
"I _trust_ you have a good reason for inviting us to this _hell-hole?"_

John swallowed nervously. "We have a problem."  
Stacy looked up immediately. "I'm afraid Princess Allison isn't really, how shall I put this … warming up to Prince Robert."

"It's not _my_ fault!" Chase said defensively.  
"How could anyone think that of you, Prince Robert? You're perfect in every way," Stacy said, trying to placate her client.

"That's right, _I am_. You don't know how hard it is to have to pretend to be Gregory House.  
I loathe the man! I despise the ground he walks on!  
Please, don't take offense, Lord General, but your son's nothing but a misanthropic curmudgeon!"

"None taken. I'm well aware of my son's faults."  
_Thanks a lot, Dad …_ House thought as he strained to hear his father continue.

"I'm not finding fault with you, Prince Robert, but given Princess Allison's indifference towards you … I think we should call this off.  
Don't you agree?"

"What?" cried Stacy and Chase.  
John held out his hands helplessly. "You can't _force _her to fall in love!"

"_Ha-ha-ha, silly man!_ I beg to differ, John. I do it all the time!" Stacy extracted a small pink bottle from her cleavage.  
"As soon as our Princess drinks this potion, she'll fall in love with the first man she kisses."

Stacy cupped Chase's chin with her hand as she sneered at the Lord General. "And we all know who that will be, _don't we, John_?"

John looked at the potion. "No!"  
"I _beg_ your pardon? What did you say?" Stacy asked in a menacing tone.

"I said _no_. I refuse to drug my daughter-in-law!" John proclaimed resolutely.  
"Why the sudden concern for Princess Allison's well-being? You haven't exactly been a champion of your son's marriage." Stacy inquired sarcastically.

"Well, perhaps I've changed my mind. What if I've decided they belong together?" John asked boldly, his jaw firmly set.

"_Pish posh! Who cares what you think? You will do as I say!"_

Stacy prodded John's chest with the tip of her wand.  
"My firm helped you achieve your 'Happily Ever After'.  
I can take it away in a blink of an eye. Is that what you want?"

"No." John whispered in defeat.

"Good! Then it's settled. Now, we have to go. I need to do Prince Robert's hair before the ball," Stacy said brightly.

"His hair?" John echoed.  
_His hair?_ House, Wilson and Foreman looked at each other in disbelief.

"Yes. Princess Allison experienced an unfortunate side effect from the 'Happily Ever After' potion your son ingested.  
I gather she's grown a few inches?" asked Stacy.

"Yes, she has." John confirmed.

"A few inches?" Chase whined. "_She's an Amazon_, Fairy Godmother. She's taller than me!  
I can't have a wife who's taller than me! _It's not right! __It's … it's emasculating!"_

"Calm down, Prince Robert. Fairy Godmother will make things right.  
First we'll get you some lifts and then pouf up your bangs … you know, to give you some height."

"Thank you, Fairy Godmother. Just think …" Chase said dreamily.  
"By midnight tonight, Princess Allison and I will have shared our first kiss and fallen in love.  
This is the night I've been waiting for. The night I shed my virginity!"

Wilson shot out the bushes.  
"_He's a virgin? Did you hear that House_?" he shouted.  
"_Oh, do shut up, Wilson!"_ House hissed.

Chase visibly paled.  
"Someone's out there, Fairy Godmother, I heard him say House!"

Stacy dashed to the window, just in time to see the three men leap into the Mercedes and squeal down Berkeley Lane.

She chuckled to herself as she looked at Prince Robert.  
"Come along, Your Highness, it's time to prepare for the ball."

"But what about House?" Chase whimpered as Stacy led him out of the room.  
"My guards will take care of him." She paused and looked back over her shoulder. "And John …"

"Yes, Fairy Godmother."  
"You_ know_ what to do …"

**_... by daisyb10_**

_**a/n:** "Always On My Mind" was composed by Johnny Christopher, Mark Jones and Wayne Thompson._


	20. Ch 14: Live From The Red Carpet!

_**A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2**_

_**Chapter 14: Live From The Red Carpet!**_

"Quiet on the set! … We're on in ten seconds! _Ten … Nine …"  
_The announcers readied themselves for air; a tie was adjusted, some water was sipped.

"_Eight … Seven … Six …Five … Four … Three … "  
_A balding floor director signed the remaining seconds.  
Two … One …  
And cued the theme music.

"Good evening, Everyone! And welcome to this special edition of _Extratainment Tonight!_

"I'm Mark Steinway …"  
"And I'm Jann Carr, sitting in for Mary Smart, who's on assignment.

Now, hold on to your hats …" Jann smiled at her co-host.  
" … you're in for a treat!" concluded Mark.

"We've got the scoop on the social event of the season …  
The Royal Wooster Wedding Ball!  
The celebrities, the fashions, the tears, the cheers!  
You'll see them all here. _Exclusively … _on ET!"

The camera zoomed in on Mark's handsome face.  
"I see the festivities are about to begin, so without further ado, _h-e-r-e'-s_ _Mary!"_

"Good evening, Mark and Jann," the bubbly blonde gushed. "And good evening to our viewers from around the globe who have tuned in to witness this historic ball, celebrating the marriage of Princess Doctor Allison Cameron, heir to throne of Far, Far Away, to Doctor Gregory House of Princeton, New Jersey."

"The sun has just set in The Kingdom of Cape Wooster and everywhere I look, the night sky is awash with magnificent fireworks.  
Just behind me, perched high atop a hill over-looking the Atlantic Ocean, is the royal palace … home to King Bertram and his 30-year-old son, the reclusive Prince Robert."

The television cameras zoomed back for a panoramic shot of the floodlit edifice.

"I've been doing a little research, Mary." Jann slipped on a pair of designer reading glasses and skimmed over her notes.  
"I understand the royal prince has not been seen by his subjects in over twenty years!" A mock blank photograph with a superimposed black question mark appeared on the screen.

"That's right, Jann!" Mary confirmed. "No sightings, no photographs. The paparazzi are out in full force tonight!  
Rumor has it, "Tattletale Magazine" is offering one million dollars for a shot of Prince Robert."

"_Wow!_ Keep your camera handy, Mary!" quipped Mark.  
"And do you get the sense that Princess Allison's choice to marry a commoner has shocked royal watchers worldwide?"

"Absolutely!" Mary lowered her voice in a conspiratorial tone.  
"Apparently, it was always assumed that one day Princess Allison and Prince Robert would wed and unite these two great kingdoms,  
but the Princess obviously had other plans. Oh, and here's _another_ interesting tidbit for you … her husband, Dr. Gregory House, the world-renowned diagnostician and researcher, is the son of Lord General John House, military advisor to King Bertram, and his lovely wife, Lady Blythe House."

"Now _that's_ a coincidence, isn't it Mary? Oh, I see from our monitors that the royal guests are beginning to arrive."

"Indeed they are! Limousines are lined up as far as the eye can see waiting to circle the historic Wooster Fountain where the walk up the red carpet begins. Everyone who's anyone is expected to turn out tonight to honour Princess Allison and Dr. House, and the viewing stands are packed to capacity with anxious fans hoping to catch a glimpse of the newlyweds!"

"Now, who have we here? Why, it's _Augustus Fink-Nottle!_ Mr. Fink-Nottle, better known as Gussie to his friends, attended school with Dr. House and is one of the groom's closest childhood friends.

"And Mark, just listen to the screams from the young ladies in our audience!  
It seems we have more than one doctor in the house, tonight …"

Mark groaned on cue in the studio. "That's _terrible_, Mary …"  
"I know …" she giggled.

"Well, the object of all this affection is _none other_ than _Evan Green_, who plays Dr. Brock Sterling on the hit daytime drama,  
'Prescription: Passion'! Let's see if we can get a few words with Evan …"

The actor waved to his admirers as he stepped up on the broadcast stage.

"Evan, first of all, may I say how handsome you look tonight?"  
"Thanks to Hugo Boss!" blushed Evan.

"And you're looking lovely, as usual, Mary. Who designed your gown?"

"Why, thank you for asking, Evan! My empire-waisted gold lamé ball gown is from the Giorgio Armani privé collection,  
my jewels are from Harry Winston and Jimmy Choo designed my shoes and clutch."

He eyed her appreciatively. _"Fabulous, darling!"_

"And are you here as a guest of the bride or the groom?" Mary asked brightly.

"Well, not too many people know this, but Greg House saved my life."  
Evan choked back his tears as Mary looked on with concern.  
"If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be standing here today."

"What a courageous man you are, Evan. You're an _inspiration_ to us all. Let's have a big round of applause for Evan Green, ladies and gent …"  
Mary's voice trailed off as she spotted a pink limousine in front of the fountain.

_"Oh, my goodness, Mark!  
Can it be?_  
_Yes!!  
__It's the one!  
It's the only!_  
_It's the Fairy Godmother!"_

Stacy floated down the red carpet in Oscar de la Renta.  
The shimmering blue gown hugged every curve of her enticing figure, her hair tumbled to her shoulders in seductive curls.

A murmur ran through the crowd.  
"Sta-cy, Sta-cy, Sta-cy, Sta-cy …"

"Hello, Cape Wooster!"

The chant grew louder.  
"_Sta-cy, Sta-cy, Sta-cy, Sta-cy …"_

"May all your endings be happy and …" Stacy tilted her head coyly towards her adoring fans.

"_**Sta-cy, Sta-cy, Sta-cy, Sta-cy …"**_

"You know the rest!"

And with a wave of her wand, she was gone.

**_... by daisyb10_**


	21. Ch 15: A Change Of Heart

**_A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 15: A Change of Heart**_

Dr. Amber Volakis shut down her laptop and sighed with satisfaction at her day's accomplishments. This heady glimpse into House's research had convinced her, beyond a shadow of a doubt that her destiny lay in the CRIPPLED lab.

"Hey, Amber, _Extratainment Tonight's_ on. The rest of the gang's upstairs already. Are you ready to call it a night?" Cole asked, popping his head in the door.

"I'm almost done." The sultry blonde smiled at her colleague. "Where's Henry?"

"He's just locking up and activating the security system." Cole tapped his fingernails impatiently on the doorframe while Amber hung up her lab coat and turned off the lights. "Let's not keep the man waiting."

"I'm not sure this is such a good idea," Henry began, as the threesome stepped inside the elevator for the short ride up to CRIPPLED's second floor loft.  
"I don't think House and Cameron would like the idea of us having a party in their bedroom."

"What they don't know won't hurt them," Cole said, following the chatter of their friends into the spacious suite.  
"And besides, it's House's own fault for having this 70" plasma beauty up here."

"I agree with Henry. We shouldn't be here."  
Dr. Doogie Howe sat down on the floor at the foot of the bed and untwisted the cap off his beer.  
"At least _you _guys shouldn't be here. House and I go _waaaay_ back."

Dr. Chris Taub dismissed Howe's bravado with a wave of his hand.  
"Yea, yea ... we all know what good buddies you are with House."

"Did you set the alarm, Henry?" Howe asked, ignoring Taub.  
"Yep, all done. House sure is paranoid about his lab," Henry commented.

Howe ripped open a bag of chips before answering.  
"Well, if you'd been around when Vogler tried to shut down CRIPPLED and sabotage House's research, you'd understand his paranoia."

"Yea, but Vogler's dead … got another beer?" Taub interjected.

"Medical espionage is big business these days. Here you go …" Howe handed Taub a brewski.  
"There will always be a Vogler wanting to profit from House's research. Especially now that the lupus clinical trials are about begin. Hey, guys!"

Doctors Followes and Backman sat next to Howe, laden with buckets of buffalo wings.  
"Why would anyone have a television like this in their bedroom? I mean, after all … House_ is_ married to Cameron …" Followes muttered to his pal.  
"That's a bachelor's TV," Bachman mused. "I bet it's pre-Cameron."

"Dibs on the bed!" yelled Cole.  
His flying leap, with a mid-air rotation, landed him flat on his back in the middle of the mattress.  
Amber plopped on his right. Henry lounged on his left.

"Will somebody _please _pass me the pizza?" Amber asked.  
"I will if I can lie down beside you …" Thirteen offered seductively.  
"There's not a lot of room …" Amber protested.  
"In a king-sized bed?" Thirteen snuggled.  
"Yea, quit hoggin' the covers!" Taub complained, settling next to Henry.

_"Shut up, you guys! I can't hear the TV!"_

oOoOo

"_Extratainment_ _Tonight's_ exclusive coverage of The Royal Wooster Wedding Ball will return right after these important messages from our sponsors."

"I _hate_ these ball shows! They _bore_ me to tears." Taub groused.  
"Hey, Kutner. Flip over to 'Steal My Fortune'."

"I'm not flipping anywhere, Mr. Who-died-and-put-you-in-charge," Dr. Lawrence Kutner mumbled, his mouth stuffed with hot buttered popcorn, "until I see House and Cameron!"

"It's _Princess Allison_ to you …" Taub snarked.  
"Nah, Cameron's not like that," munched Kutner. "She's just one of the guys."  
"Don't believe that for a sec. Once a princess, always a princess!" Taub declared. "She's out of his league."  
"You're just jealous 'cause _they're_ happily married and _you're_ not!" Kutner zinged with a self-satisfied smile.  
"_Nice one, Larry … Good shot, Kutner!"_ murmured the gang.

"Harumph … " grumped Taub. "What do you know about marriage, anyway? Whizzies on you guys!"  
"_Whizzies? _What the_ hell _are whizzies?" Followes spluttered.  
"Put a sock in it, Dan, and pass me some wings!"

Taub peered over the end of the bed. "_No, not those!_ I want the suicide wings, not the honey-garlic! It's the bucket on Backman's left."  
"_No, your left!"_ Taub yelled as Backman reached to his right. "How'd you ever make it through med school, you idiot?_ And give me the remote!"_

"_Owwwww!!"  
_Kutner aimlessly flung the remote at Taub, hitting him squarely on his forehead.

Taub shook his head in despair as everyone dissolved into giggles.  
"I'm surrounded by incompetence …"

oOoOo

"_Tonight on__"BOBBIES" …"_

"Now _here's_ a good show!" Taub sat up enthusiastically.

"This is Constable Oates," said a bombastic announcer.  
"We've just taken the hand-off from the FG's Factory Guards. The suspect, Dr. Gregory House, has been spotted fleeing westbound on The King's Highway in a black Mercedes CLK convertible with his nefarious accomplices, Dr. James Wilson and Dr. Eric Foreman. Requesting back-up."

The Cape Wooster Police Department's eye-in-the-sky, _Chopper One,_ shadowed the Merc as itswerved through six lanes of rush-hour traffic.

"We're dispatching these delusional docs!" Oates announced. "We're ending their pilfering pranks!"

House, Wilson and Foreman sped towards the palace with CWPD's finest in hot pursuit, but as House rounded a blind curve and slammed on his brakes, the Merc spun into a wall, and they were surrounded by cops.

"Get outta the car, pretty boy!" growled a big lug, as they pounced all over Wilson.  
"Hey, watch the hair!" warned Wilson. "Look, you've got dirt on my jumpsuit! Police brutality!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"I have to talk to Princess Allison!" House begged, as he struggled to free himself from his captors.  
"If you don't cooperate, House, I'll be forced to use this pepper spray!" threatened a goon wielding a gigantic pepper mill.  
"Surely you jest, my good man," reasoned House.  
"_I never jest!" _the goon grumbled, "Whatever 'jest' means … you asked for it!"  
He proceeded to shower House with freshly-ground pepper.  
"_Ow …ow … that stings …"_

"Now here's a _feisty feline_ …" Oates chuckled.  
The camera panned over to Foreman, fearlessly fighting his foes.  
"You capitalist pig dogs!

Foreman was pinned to a wall and thoroughly searched.  
"Look what I found?" A lumbering giant waved a small bag at the TV camera.  
"It's Catnip! You're lookin' at ten years in the slammer for possession of a hallucinogenic!"  
"I swear it's not mine …" cried Foreman.

"Find Princess Allison!" House cried, as he was unceremoniously dumped into the paddy wagon with Wilson and Foreman.

"Tell her House … _I'm her husband, House!"  
_The camera froze on House's face.

Kutner jumped to his feet. _"Quick, Taub! Rewind it!"_

"_I'm her husband, House!"_

The doctors stared at each other in slack-jawed horror.

oOoOo

The kitchen was bathed in moonlight as John House prepared two cups of tea. He hesitated, weighing his options, before uncorking the pink bottle that sat by the tray.

Slowly … and sadly … he released its contents.  
A plume of heart-shaped steam arose from the cup, then disintegrated into fairy dust to taint the brew.

_Knock, knock, knock …._

"Lord General? This _is _a surprise." Cameron turned from the window of the turreted tower.

"A pleasant one, I hope, " John said, setting his tray on the windowsill. "I thought perhaps you'd enjoy having a nice hot cup of tea with me."

"Where's Lady Blythe? You normally take your tea with her this time each night," Cameron asked, slightly puzzled.

"You're very observant, my dear, but the fact of the matter is … I've been abandoned by my wife. She's off attending to some last minute details with the caterers and I can't find her anywhere. So, will you take pity on a lonely old man?" John asked, mustering all his charm.

"Of course I will, Da.. Lord General. Thank you." Cameron looked out the window. "I've been watching the guests arrive."

"Speaking of guests," John joined Cameron at the window. "I was sorry to hear that King Harold and Queen Lillian were unable to attend tonight's ball."

"My father is not well, Lord General, and cannot travel," Cameron said sadly, as she looked at the beaded white gown on its dressmaker's form. "But I'm not going, anyway."

"But you _must _go, Princess Allison. The whole kingdom's turned out to celebrate your marriage to my son."

Cameron's eyes met John's.  
"There's just one problem, Lord General. That man …" Cameron motioned to Chase. "That's _not_ my husband."  
John followed her gaze to the red carpet where Chase was working the crowd into a hysterical frenzy. "Just look at him …"

"Gregory may not seem like himself," John agreed, "but people _do_ make changes for the ones they love. If you only knew how I changed for Lady Blythe …"

"Greg hasn't changed, Lord General … he's lost his mind!" Cameron cried.

"Perhaps, you could give him another chance, Princess Allison," coaxed John.  
"Maybe you'll like this new Gregory … I mean, anything has be an improvement on the old one …" John squirmed.

"But I_ love_ the old Greg."  
Cameron reached for a cup of tea.  
"I'd do anything to have him back."

In that split second, John House, knew what he must do.  
"_Princess_ _Allison_, _that's mine._ It's decaf," he said, taking the cup from Cameron's hand. "Otherwise, I'm up all night. This one's yours."

Cameron took a sip of the soothing tea and smiled at her father-in-law.  
"Thanks … Dad."

**_... by daisyb10_**


	22. Ch 16: The Prison Break, Part 1

**_A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 16: The Prison Break – Part 1**_

_The warden threw a party in the county jail.  
The prison band was there and they began to wail.  
The band was jumpin' and the joint began to swing.  
You should've heard those knocked out jailbirds sing.  
Let's rock, everybody, let's rock.  
Everybody in the whole cell block  
was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock._

"Wilson, be a good chap and leave off the singing," House asked, as much venom in his pretentiously British accent as he could muster.

"House, I want to enjoy this while I can," Wilson protested. House winced as he detected a very subtle twang creeping into Wilson's voice.

"Wilson, if you start ending your speeches with anything even remotely resembling 'Thank you very much' you'll be in for a sound thrashing."

House leaned his head morosely against the cool stone wall of their prison cell. It had been quite a few years since he'd been arrested, the sad but inevitable truth of an aging hell-raiser, but it was pretty much as he remembered. Cool stone, cold steel, hard floors and even harder benches. He watched with frustrated amusement as Wilson and Foreman jostled each other for enough sitting space on the bench they were sharing. One hard look from him had been enough. Neither of them wanted to share a bench with him. He was grateful that at least his glare was still in proper working order. It was so difficult to be properly intimidating when he couldn't even snark.

"I'll do my best," Wilson said dryly. "The potion is going to wear off. In a few hours I'll be back to sounding like William Hung instead of Elvis. Can't you let me enjoy the only good thing I've got going for me?"

"Wilson, my good man, be reasonable. We're in prison. True, we're in a holding cell now. But it won't be long before we're transferred to General Population and I can assure you that being able to sing and swivel your hips like Elvis are most decidedly _not_ talents you'll want to share with our fellow inmates," House said.

"But I'm not gay," Wilson protested.

"Your lips say no, but your sequined jumpsuit says yes," Foreman hissed. "Please, Senor James, believe me, your protests will only encourage them."

"He's quite right you know," House chimed in. "Their ardor for you will eclipse even that of those unfortunately intoxicated sailors on our last trip to Mardi Gras."

Wilson paled drastically and began mumbling. "Please let midnight come faster, please let midnight come faster, please let midnight come faster…"

"I must hold on before I, too, go totally mad," Foreman whispered to himself.

"House?" a voice whispered through the cell's lone window. Foreman looked up to see the face of a man, or a woman with a mustache, peering in between the bars of the window situated high overhead in the cell wall. "Too late."

"Thirteen!" House shouted. "And Kutner and ….the rest of you. Thank heaven!"

Thirteen leaned back and gave a nod. Kutner sprang forward energetically and began doing something to the bars of the window. From House's distance, he couldn't make out exactly what was going on, but it certainly looked complicated. A few concerned ejaculations from the rest of the group were barely heard before House heard the tell-tale flick of a Bic and smelled the unmistakable scent of a burning fuse.

"Look out below," Kutner cried.

_**KA-BOOM!**_

A powerful explosion rocked the walls of the cell and a shower of crumbled cinderblock and scraps of metal rained down on the three inmates.

Kutner managed to wriggle most of the way through the barely expanded opening where the barred window had been. Unfortunately, it was only once he was mid-way through that he realized his predicament. The floor was still a good ten feet away; far too great a distance to simply drop through the window, and certainly not head first.

House shook his head and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes to help him remain calm. While Kutner was flopping around in the window like a fish out of water, he was losing precious time to get to Allison and stop her from kissing that pretty boy Chase.

Just the thought of that slimy, prissy, nancy boy putting his hands on Allison made House's blood boil. It was a shame he didn't need his cane any longer, because all sorts of interesting ways to use it on Chase's pasty white skin kept popping into House's head.

He became so engrossed in imaging how he could use the cane to give Chase legs striped bruises in a candy cane pattern that he neglected to pay any attention to his rescuers. It wasn't until he was nudged by Foreman that he looked up.

Standing before him, and grinning the most ridiculously proud faces House had seen since he'd last had a puppy, were Kutner, Doogie Howe and Drs. Backman and Followes from PPTH. A length of rope lay on the floor below the window.

"House, we're here to rescue you!" Kutner said.

"You don't say," House said. He looked at Wilson and Foreman with disgust, and then at the rest of the idiots lined up to receive his praise. "Kutner, is that right?" Kutner nodded eagerly. "Did you, perchance, attend medical school in South America? No, no. Perhaps you simply purchased your diploma via the internet?"

Kutner looked at Wilson and Foreman in confusion before replying. "No, I went to John Hopkins."

"Did you graduate?" House asked.

"Of course," Kutner scoffed.

"I only ask, you understand, because I have such difficulty in understanding how any of the fine institutions of higher learning in this country could have allowed anyone so imbecilic to complete a course of study," House said, his frustration only growing at his inability to really lay into this moron.

"What do you mean?" Kutner asked.

"House, aren't you being a little hard on him?" Howe interjected, remembering how much fun House always had in humiliating other people. "I mean, really, we've just broken into prison to help."

"That is precisely my point, you utter buffoon!" House shouted. "You broke in! Now that you're here and the rope is lying on the floor, exactly how do you propose that we get out?!"

Kutner was crestfallen. Howe, Backman and Followes hung their heads in shame. Backman and Followes had been chastised by House before for their lack of aplomb in breaking in. They'd been determined to impress him this time, and had concentrated so hard on getting into the cell they never even considered how to get back out.

"Um…"

"Um indeed!" House shouted. He rounded on Wilson and Foreman. "And you two, you…you…"

"Idiots?" a female voice asked from the door of the cell.

"Morons?" a male voice added.

"Amber? Henry?" Kutner asked. "And Taub and Cole? How did you guys get back here?"

Taub rolled his eyes. "Just exactly how easy did you think it was going to be hoisting three grown men out of a jail cell from ten feet below, through a window barely big enough to wiggle through and using only one piece of rope?"

Henry stepped forward and motioned Amber to follow. "I told the guard that I was Wilson's father, and that he's a diabetic who needs his insulin shot."

House grinned.

"While Henry was distracting the guard, I borrowed his keys," Cole said.

"You stole them," House argued.

"Stealing is a sin," Cole replied seriously. "I intend to give them back. Therefore, it's borrowing."

"That's a slippery slope you're walking, mi amigo," Foreman said. "You don't object to helping break us out of jail?"

"You were wrongly imprisoned," Cole argued. "Of course, if you have a moral objection, I'm happy to go put the keys back."

"That would be stupid," Amber argued, grabbing the keys from Cole and unlocking the cell door.

"Why?" Wilson asked.

"Because I just drugged the guard," 13 said jogging down the hall in a hurry.

""Then I suggest a fleet footed flight," House said.

They all stared at him.

"Stupid, pompous British accent," House grumbled. "Run!"

The crew fled the jail cell swiftly, Cole pausing only to toss the keys back onto the guard's desk. They ran until the prison was nothing but a shadow behind them before stopping.

"We've positively must stop that kiss," House said sternly.

"I thought you were going to let her go," Wilson said slowly.

"Well, I was. But I can't allow such a travesty to be carried out," House said and then grimaced. "I can't permit them do this to Allison. I may be able to live with a lot of things, but this simply isn't among them."

"That's the House I know," Wilson said. "So what's the plan?"

"Fritz," House called, but received no reply. He turned to find Foreman and Amber leaning against the wall of a nearby building, Amber with a smug grin on her face and Foreman purring something in her ear. "Fritz!"

"Sorry, boss," Foreman said, tearing himself away from Amber reluctantly. "We'll never get inside the castle. I'm good, but even I am no match for the armed guards securing the guests. I'm afraid I'm not up to the task."

"Nor am I," House said as a grin spread slowly across his face. "But I may know someone who is!"

**_... by jellybean30_**


	23. Ch 16: The Prison Break, Part 2

**_A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 16: The Prison Break, Part 2**_

"Jeeves!" shouted House as he burst unceremoniously into the small sitting area of the servant's quarters at his parents' house.

Jeeves, remarkably unperturbed, looked up from the arm chair where he was reading his beloved Spinoza.

"You bellowed, sir?"

"Jeeves, I do hope that you had fish for dinner," House announced, flopping heavily onto the small sofa across from his one and only hope to rescue his princess and save the day.

"Indeed, sir?" Jeeves asked, casting an eye at the crowd of people milling about in the doorway to the sitting room.

"Can't see my way out of this mess, Jeeves," House admitted, though it pained him to do so. "What's more, I haven't the time for reflection that would normally bring me enlightenment. The time for action is upon us."

"I see, sir," Jeeves said, and it was apparent from his tone and the complete confidence of his demeanor that he did see.  
"If I may ascertain from you sir, whether I correctly understood you on the telephone? I gather that you are referring to the gentleman who is asserting himself as Dr. Gregory House?"

"That's the chap," House nodded.

"And, if I may take the liberty, sir, to presume further, Princess Allison would appear to be convinced that he is you and any difference in physical attributes is a result of the same potion that has affected her condition and, ahem, figure?"

"You've hit it precisely on the nose Jeeves," House confirmed.

"Then, if I may continue in that vein, sir, you require a means of entering the ball sans invitation in order to reveal his falsehood to Princess Allison and reunite with her," Jeeves said.

"Yes, and dash it man we must be quick about it!" House cried. "The plot is even more nefarious than you've surmised, Jeeves. She's to be given some manner of love tonic. If he manages to kiss her before I can make her see reason, she'll fall in love with and no amount of wooing on my part will matter in the slightest!"

"That is quite the predicament, sir," Jeeves remarked calmly.

"Predicament?!" House shouted. "Predicament? I…wha…you…" House floundered.

"If I may make a suggestion, sir?" Jeeves continued, unruffled by House's sputtering. "I believe the solution is closer at hand than is apparent."

"Really?" House asked.

Jeeves nodded in the general direction of Wilson. House grinned. "Oh very good, Jeeves. I like the way you think."

"Thank you, sir," Jeeves lowered his head in acceptance of the compliment.

oOoOo

_Well get out of that bed, wash your face and hands  
Get out of that bed, wash your face and hands  
Well get in that kitchen  
Make some noise with the pots and pans  
I believe it to my soul you're the devil in nylon hose  
I believe it to my soul you're the devil in nylon hose  
For the harder I work the faster my money goes_

_Well I said shake, rattle and roll  
I said shake rattle and roll  
I said shake, rattle and roll  
I said shake rattle and roll  
Well you won't do right  
To save your doggone soul_

The speakers in Foreman's black convertible Corvette, driven in by Kitty under Jeeves' instructions, were cranked up full as he drove slowly through the center of New London. House was crouched down in the passenger seat, both to help stabilize things and to avoid letting his face be seen.

Standing astride the seat backs, in his resplendent black rhinestone studded suit, Wilson was in his glory. The wind was in his hair, he had swivel in his hips and song in his heart. And for once, people weren't shouting in fright.

Everyone who hadn't been invited to attend the wedding reception ball, which would include most of the population of New London, was drawn to the melodious voice ringing through the streets. At first, only House's rescue crew trailed the slow moving vehicle. But as more and more people gathered to see what was going on, the crowd began to grow in number.

_I'm like the one-eyed cat peeping in a seafood store  
I'm like the one-eyed cat peeping in a seafood store  
Well I can look at you tell you ain't no child no more  
I believe you're doing me wrong and now I know  
I believe you're doing me wrong and now I know  
cause the harder I work the faster my money goes_

_Well I said shake, rattle and roll  
I said shake rattle and roll  
I said shake, rattle and roll  
I said shake rattle and roll  
Well you won't do right  
To save your doggone soul_

Passing through the center of New London, the entourage following Wilson's singing began to become more vocal, shouting cheers and whistling as he belted out the tunes and gyrated his hips. House rolled his eyes at Jeeves, who was trailing closely behind the car. But House hadn't truly envisioned the chaos that could possibly ensue from Jeeves' brilliant plan.

Just as the car crossed out of New London proper and began it's ascent toward the castle, things began to truly take shape. Several of Foreman's 'ladies of the evening' had been commissioned to make things just a little more frenzied. Soon, buxom blondes and racy redheads began throwing themselves bodily at the car, snatching at Wilson's pant legs and shouting out marriage proposals and other … propositions.

Before long, the women of New London began to join in and just as Wilson finished his first number, a pair of ladies panties were flung from the crowd and landed right on his face. Wilson blushed to beat all blushes and House choked down a bit of bile.

"By jove, Jeeves, was that really necessary?" House whined from his position in the passenger seat, where he was currently trying to hold onto Wilson with one hand and fend off randy women with the other.

"Well, sir, it has the advantage of being something of a spectacle," Jeeves remarked in his usual calm tone.

"Does nothing ruffle you?" House shouted.

"Only the atrocities of men's fashion, sir," Jeeves replied. He looked askance at Kutner and Cole walking beside him. "Denim, sir, simply shouldn't be."

Wilson launched into his second selection just as the 'Vette breached the outer wall of the castle proper.

_A little less conversation, a little more action please  
All this aggravation ain't satisfactioning me  
A little more bite and a little less bark  
A little less fight and a little more spark  
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me  
Satisfy me baby_

_Baby close your eyes and listen to the music  
Drifting through a summer breeze  
Its a groovy night and I can show you how to use it  
Come along with me and put your mind at ease_

The guards came to attention and surveyed the scene before them with trepidation. Celebrities were always ostentatious, and no one wanted to ruffle any feathers.

But the paparazzi, upon getting one good look at Wilson swarmed.

"It's Elvis!! He's alive!!"

**_... by jellybean30_**


	24. Ch 17: Have Fun Storming The Castle

**_A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 17: Have Fun Storming the Castle**_

"Ladies and gentleman, in their first official appearance as husband and wife, Princess Doctor Allison Cameron and Dr. Gregory House," a bodiless voice announced over the din of murmuring guests.

Cameron tensed as Chase held out his arm to her. Standing at the top of wide staircase leading to the stone terrace amidst the beautiful gardens of King Bertram's castle, Cameron couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so wrong. She took a deep breath and plastered on the most sincere smile she could manage. She had only to get through this one night. Then she and Greg could sit down and talk over how very wrong this potion had made things, and what they could do to go back to the way things were.

Polite applause greeted the couple as they descended. Three steps down, Chase started waving at the select photographers who had been allowed inside the party to take pictures and actually blew a kiss in the direction of a few of the young ladies in attendance.

"Greg, what are you doing?" Cameron hissed.

"I'm just playing along. Where's the harm in that?" Chase answered. He turned and looked at Cameron, confused by her distress.

"Greg, what have you done to your hair?!" Cameron noticed the less than subtle waves that were sloping up from his head. "Did you use product?"

"Maybe just a little," Chase hedged. "You can still run your fingers through it if you like. It's got great hold but it's still touchable."

"What's wrong with you?" Cameron cried, wrenching her arm from Chase's grasp and turning to run back up the stairs.

Chase looked at Stacy frantically. She fluttered a few feet above the floor and waved her wand. A bower of pink sparks glittered just above the heads of the guests. A second quick flick of her wrist prompted the band into action and transformed her shimmering blue gown into a racy scarlet with sequins that twinkled as she moved.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to dedicate this song to Cape Wooster's newest couple, Princess Allison and Greg House," Stacy told her now rapt audience.

Cameron froze on the top step, all eyes now upon her as she tried to beat a hasty retreat. Chase extended a hand to her and smiled.

"Allison, I've never been able to do this with you before. Would you allow me the honor of the first dance?"

Cameron hesitated. No matter how much he'd changed, he was still Greg, wasn't he? And every tone of his question breathed sincerity. She wondered if he'd been thinking of this moment when he took the potion. Cameron took his hand tentatively and walked down the steps toward the dance floor.

Stacy closed her eyes, took a deep breath and prepared to do whatever was necessary for her client, regardless of how much she loathed it.

Stacy sang.

_Where have all the good men gone  
And where are all the gods?  
Where's the street-wise Hercules  
To fight the rising odds?  
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?  
Late at night I toss and turn and dream of what I need_

_I need a hero_

As the music swelled, Blythe caught a note or two from inside the kitchens where she had been summoned to avert a disaster with the fish course. Cursing the caterer and her own bad luck, she rushed out toward the terrace. She'd already missed their announcement as husband and wife; she was simply not going to miss their first dance. And with Allison's amazing transformation, Blythe was impatient to see Greg.

She made her way toward the head table as gracefully as possible in her rush, murmuring thank yous to the guests' many offers of congratulations and well wishes for the bride and groom. She sat down next to John and looked out at the dance floor beaming with joy for her son.

"John!" Blythe gasped. "Who on earth is that dancing with Princess Allison?"

"I don't know what you mean, dear," John said staunchly.

"You don't know what I … John Alexander House you know perfectly well what I mean! That man is not my Greg," Blythe whispered, casting surreptitious glances around her to make sure no one overheard.

"Well of course he is, Blythe. Who else could it be?" John challenged. "You saw what that potion did to Allison."

"Potion or no potion, John, that man is not my son," Blythe insisted.

oOoOo

"Alright Wilson, let's crash this party," Howe cried as he, Followes and Backman took their places around the car trying to hold back the screaming fans and the paparazzi.

Wilson took his cue and leapt off the car down into the horde of fans. Pandemonium quickly broke loose in the capacity crowd. Howe, Followes and Backman did their best to keep Wilson relatively free of molestation.

_Well Long Tall Sally  
She pretty sweet  
She got everything that Uncle John need  
Baby, yeah now baby  
Woo baby, some fun tonight_

True to plan, Foreman's girls began to squeal and shout. The paparazzi swarmed in a frenzy of flashbulbs. While Wilson and his body guards subtly shifted their way closer and closer to the soldiers, House, Foreman and the rest of the rescue crew carefully shifted through the crowd until they were nearly completely concealed.

Jeeves checked to be certain the House was in position before giving Wilson the signal. Wilson nodded and climbed atop the massive stone wall that surrounded the castle.

_You ain't nothin' but a hound dog  
Cryin' all the time.  
You ain't nothin' but a hound dog  
Cryin' all the time.  
Well, you ain't never caught a rabbit_

_And you ain't no friend of mine._

As he sang, Wilson shimmied and shook, curling his lips as any good Elvis impersonator would. The paparazzi went wild. As the shutters clicked, the flashes of light reflected off the sequins on Wilson's jumpsuit and he became a living disco ball. Tiny sparkles of light twirled over the crowd.

oOoOo

Chase dipped Cameron energetically, and Blythe groaned and buried her face in her hands. She didn't care what John said, she knew her son and healed leg or not, Greg would _never_ put on such a humiliating display.

Cameron was beside herself. She'd been prepared to give Greg a chance to prove that the potion hadn't fundamentally changed him, but this was just ludicrous. Her Greg wouldn't care enough about what the other guests at the party thought to act so foolishly.

When he pulled her back up from the dip, Chase moved in closer to Cameron to give her a kiss. He was counting on that potion to seal the deal. But Princess Doctor Allison Cameron was turning out to be one tough nut to crack. She pulled away and managed to make it look like a spin. Chase clenched his teeth and followed her closely.

oOoOo

House snarled at the tiny points of light floating over his tuxedo jacket. He and his crew were nearly in position, but Wilson was going to have to provide a better distraction.

"Wilson!" House shouted.

Wilson turned.

"Less lip, more hip!"

Wilson swiveled his hips at a new angle, and the flashes from the cameras caught his large mirrored belt buckle perfectly. A lance of blinding white light shot directly into the faces of the soldiers standing guard.

"Now, sir!" Jeeves urged.

House and Foreman ran forward from the back of the crowd, brandishing a restraint fashioned from the stockings all of Foreman's girls had been wearing. Working quickly, they pushed and shoved the soldiers mightily until they were corralled inside the nylon prison. Kutner, Cole and Henry gathered up their weapons while Amber covered Wilson with a large cape. With the help of Followes, Backman and Howe, she shepherded Wilson inside the castle gates. Kutner, Cole and Henry tossed the weapons into some decorative shrubbery and dashed inside the gates as well. House, Foreman and Jeeves made sure the guards were secure before clambering inside the now closing gates as well. Somehow the commotion had sounded the alarm.

Reinforcements were on the way.

House was torn. He couldn't leave his comrades in arms behind, but he had to stop Allison from kissing that scoundrel.

Foreman's girls, led by Kitty, barely beat the gate, but made it inside. Sensing his anguish, Foreman encouraged House to continue on.

"Your lady needs you, go."

"Indeed, sir," Jeeves concurred. "Time is of the essence."

House nodded his thanks and ran off with the rest of the crew.

"Today, I repay my debt," Foreman spoke solemnly.

"Most noble of you, sir," Jeeves said.

The pounding of feet signaled the approaching soldiers, just seconds before their arrival.

Foreman looked at Jeeves.

Jeeves nodded.

"Ladies," Jeeves inclined his head in their direction.

The soldiers stood slack-jawed as Foreman's girls began to …dance.

**_... by jellybean30_**


	25. Ch 18: Everybody Lies

**_A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 18 – Everybody Lies**_

Chase twirled Cameron around as Stacy's song reached its crescendo. As the final note sounded, he pulled her close to his chest, trapping her in a tight hold. Cameron was flushed from the dancing, and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Chase was also breathing heavily, both from exertion and excitement. This was it. This was the moment. He leaned in slowly, not wanting her to bolt again. Cameron stilled but didn't pull away. Chase let his eyes slip closed, trusting the potion to help draw Cameron in for the kiss when …

"I say!" House thundered as he burst onto the terrace, his crew close on his heels. "Unhand my wife you contemptuous scoundrel!"

Chase released Cameron guiltily. Cameron stared in wide eyed wonder at the man striding down the stairs. Younger, yes. More hair, yes. Two sound legs, yes.

But was it really?

"Greg?" Cameron whispered.

"You!" Stacy shouted in a rage. "Why couldn't you just go back to your swamp and leave well enough alone?! You're like the plague!"

"I love a plague," House smirked. Then he nodded his head at his crew. "Quick, smite the evil witch!" House shouted.

Howe, Followes and Backman rushed Stacy, but neglected to take into account her ability to levitate. She floated above their heads and snickered at their feeble attempt to accost her.

Amber, Cole and Henry had better success. Amber, no stranger to witchcraft herself, had foreseen Stacy's move. She and the boys and formed a human tripod, which Thirteen quickly climbed and the leapt toward Stacy. Although Thirteen was exceptionally thin, the extra weight was enough to knock Stacy off balance and send both ladies (or lady and gentleman) crashing to the floor. Stacy's wand flew from her hand.

Kutner grabbed at the wand and nearly had it, but it slipped through his fingertips and skittered across the floor. Howe managed to pick it up, but Stacy had already disentangled herself from Thirteen and was closing in on him fast. In a panic, he tossed the wand toward House, but it was at that most inopportune moment that Macintosh slipped his leash and bounded across the dance floor to express his love on House's leg.

Momentarily off kilter, House succeeded only in batting the wand back in Stacy's direction. Just as Stacy was about to snatch it out of the air, Jeeves calmly stepped forward and plucked it almost delicately from her grasp.

"Pray for mercy from Fritz," Foreman hissed.

"And Jeeves, madam."

"Jeeves, old bean, how ever did you get past the guards?" House asked.

"Shall we say, sir, that they have found a more …tempting form of entertainment?" Jeeves said smoothly. House nodded his understanding. He'd seen Foreman's girls.

Stacy snarled and whirled on Chase. "She's taken the potion, kiss her now!"

Chase grabbed Cameron roughly and pulled her into a frenzied kiss.

"No!" House shouted, falling to his knees in despair. Macintosh yelped in protest.

Chase pulled back and searched Cameron's face for a sign the potion had worked. Cameron stared back at him serenely. She raised one hand and cupped his chin gently. Chase smiled. Then Cameron drew her other hand back and pushed him squarely on the nose.

"John!" Stacy shouted. "You were supposed to give her the potion!"

"Well," John said, squaring his shoulders and facing the Fairy Godmother with every last ounce of courage he could muster. "I guess I gave her the wrong tea."

"Prince Robert!" Stacy shouted, and pointed excitedly. Finally catching a clue for once, Chase roughly shoved Foreman aside and grabbed Stacy's wand out of Jeeves' for once unsuspecting hand.

"Prince Robert?" Cameron gasped.

Chase threw the wand at Stacy and she caught it, already beginning to levitate in her anger.

"I told you. Cripples. Don't. Live. Happily. Ever. After!" She shouted, and the tip of her wand began to glow a furious red. She raised her arm and flicked the wand viciously in House's direction.

A lightning-like bolt of scarlet light flashed directly at House's head. Stacy's shriek of rage sent a chill through Wilson's heart.

"John!" Blythe shouted, desperate for her husband to do something to save her only child.

John leapt in front of House, the spell reflecting from the medals on his dress uniform back at Stacy herself. Without enough time to react, the spell hit Stacy directly in the chest.

She gasped.

She choked.

She coughed.

She smirked and raised her arm to strike again.

Then she burst into a million tiny bubbles that floated to the ground and popped, leaving a sticky residue behind. The wand clattered to the ground. Its shining tip extinguished itself.

"Oh, John," Blythe cried, rushing forward to her husband's side.

"Lord General?" Cameron called as she dropped to her knees beside Blythe to being inspecting House's father for injuries.

House spotted it first. Insomuch as it was visible through his clothes, his father's right leg was twisted and shriveled in most unnatural way.

"Dad?" He questioned in a very small voice.

John sighed. "I'd hoped you'd never see me like this."

Wilson spotted it next. "Hey, and he gave you a hard time."

"Wilson," Cameron rebuked him.

"No, he's right," John said. "I've been keeping this secret for far too long."

"Everybody lies," House whispered, not sure whether to be angry or hurt.

"John, explain yourself," Blythe said.

_John lay in a hospital room, crammed with beds occupied by wounded soldiers. He stared out the window with unshed tears in his eyes. His brilliant military career was over before it had ever really begun. He looked down in disgust at the mangled mess that used to be his right leg. A newly promoted Second Lieutenant was hardly likely to become a General with a crippled leg. John clenched his fists against the wail building inside him. But despite his best efforts to martial his emotions, eyelashes aren't terribly effective shields and a lone tear escaped._

_Suddenly the room grew dark, and the other soldiers and nurses froze mid-motion. A gentle singing pervaded the now starkly silent room and John shifted uneasily in his cot. An elderly woman in a pale blue dress floated in through the nearby window and hovered above John's bed._

"_Who are you?" John rasped._

"_I'm your Fairy Godmother, John" the woman replied._

"_I don't believe in that stuff and nonsense," John said. _

_The Fairy Godmother only smiled. She withdrew a wand seemingly from the air itself and waved it in John's direction._

_John watched in awe as warm yellow light bathed his injured leg. Instantly, his pain was gone and he looked as well as he ever had. He stared at the Fairy Godmother in unashamed rapture._

"_Tell me this is real," John whispered._

"_Oh, it's very real," she assured him. "But such good fortune doesn't come without its price."_

"_Name it," John said. "I'll do anything."_

_The Fairy Godmother smiled, and despite himself John shivered just a bit. As wondrous as she was, anyone who wielded such power was to be feared._

"_Your wounds will be healed, but even I don't have the power to simply take away such a grievous injury. It must be placed elsewhere," the Fairy Godmother said._

_John balked. He couldn't really inflict this injury on someone else. Could he?_

"_I … I don't …"_

_The Fairy Godmother waved her wand again and his leg screamed with pain. Just that brief respite had been enough to let John's body forget the horrible torment. He cried out. _

"_Yes, yes, please just make it stop," John pleaded._

_The Fairy Godmother waved her wand a final time and John's leg was healed._

"_Your injury shall be laid upon your first born son on the eve of his 40__th__ birthday," the Fairy Godmother said._

_John tried to control his response. He had no son. He would likely never have a son. He was a career military man. Love and family weren't in the cards for him._

"_I agree," John said. _

"Son, I'm so sorry. I never expected to have a family. It wasn't part of my plans. I suppose that's the arrogance of youth, to expect that life will always go according to the plans we make. But when I met your mother …" John's voice trailed off. "I know I was harsh with you. I only wanted what was best for you, and to make sure you were prepared for the difficulties that would lie ahead. I hope you can accept an old man's apologies."

"John," Blythe breathed through her tears.

"I'm sorry Blythe," John said. "I wish I could be the sort of man that you deserve."

"You're more that man right now than you ever were, scars and all," Blythe said, laying a soothing hand on his cheek.

At that moment, the clock in one of the castle towers began to chime.

"Boss, the Happily Ever After Potion!" Foreman yelled.

"Midnight!" House shouted.

**_... by jellybean30_**


	26. Ch 19: Happily Ever After?

**_A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2_**

_**Chapter 19: Happily Ever After?**_

"Allison," House said, taking her by the elbows and pulling her in close. "Is this what you want? To be … this way. Because if you kiss me now," he took a deep breath and looked away from Cameron, "we can stay like this."

Cameron looked overwhelmed. Her gaze stuttered away from House to Wilson, who seemed a little apprehensive. She looked back at her husband, and couldn't fathom the sacrifice he would be making just to please her.

"You'd do that? For me?" Cameron asked.

"Yes," House said, although it pained him to do so.

"Is that what you want?" Cameron asked gently.

House barely choked down the desperate 'no' that tried to escape his lips. The lack of pain had been enough to make him euphoric those first few hours. But spending the rest of his life being someone he wasn't was infinitely worse. He detested the pretentious accent and prim manners the potion had given him. He was a toff. But his Allison was a princess, and isn't that what she deserved?

"Certainly," House said in a strained voice. "I shall take charming and debonair to a heretofore unknown level."

Cameron blinked hard. He was lying. Even as a slightly daft British tosser she knew his tells. He was willing to consign himself to a life of social nicety to make her happy. Because he wanted her to be healthy. Because he thought it was what she wanted.

Cameron turned and looked at John and Blythe, and wondered how long it would take them to come to grips with the decision John had made for both of them. Such strife, such heartache had come from that one choice. John had done so without any idea his decision would affect anyone else. How could she knowingly force the man she loved to spend his eternity as someone he wasn't for her own selfish reasons?

"I want what any princess wants," Cameron told him. "To live happily ever after."

House leaned in to kiss her.

She placed a gentle but restraining hand against his clean shaven cheek.

The clock struck twelve.

"Allison."

"With the misanthropic crippled bastard I fell in love with."

"You knew I was lying," House whispered, taking her hands in his.

"Everybody lies," Cameron replied.

A pale blue light shimmered between them, lifting first House and then Cameron into the air above the guests' heads. As they rose higher the light darkened into a deep, cobalt blue. Bright, white orbs of light twinkled and swirled around them. Several feet away, Wilson also floated in an eddy of blue and white radiance.

The crowd oohed and aahed, transfixed by the spectacle. Suddenly the blue and white light flashed a brilliant amber hue, so intense it obscured all three from view. The crowd gasped. Blythe gripped John's hand tightly, torn between rapture at the beauty before her and concern for her son.

As House, Cameron and Wilson were lowered slowly to the ground, the aura surrounding them faded away. The crowd gasped.

House looked down at himself. Gone was the stuffy tuxedo and choking tie. Replaced by his more familiar jeans, vintage tee and sport coat. And oh, his Shox. House wiggled his toes happily. He'd missed those shoes.

Wait.

He'd wiggled his toes and his leg didn't hurt.

Not at all.

Not one bit.

Not even a twinge.

He looked at Cameron, concerned now that somehow the potion hadn't really worn off. She looked good. Gorgeous. One might even say stunning. But she was definitely shorter. Much shorter. And her leg!

Genius or not, he couldn't understand.

He rubbed a hand over his face and paused on his jaw. Stubble. He moved his head to his hair and frowned. That little bald spot was back at the crown of his head. He sighed. Well, so much for lasting after effects!

Cameron looked at House, concerned that the return of his pain would be too much for him. He didn't look pained at all. In fact, he looked good. A little grayer. A little older. A little balder. But not the pain wracked man she'd grown to love.

She bounced at the knees in excitement and unconsciously leaned to the left to balance against her crutch.

No crutch.

She looked down at herself, bewildered. Her hip was fine. Her leg was fine. She bounced at the knees again. No pain. No weakness.

Ohmygod.

"Greg?" she whispered.

"Your leg too?" he asked in return.

Wilson beamed. "Do you think this means I can still sing?"

_Love me tender,  
love me sweet,  
never let me go.  
You have made my life complete,  
and I love you so._

The guests were not bashful about expressing their displeasure at Wilson's caterwauling.

"Hey, you still sound like a cheesy lounge singer to me," House snarked at Wilson and wow did it feel good to be able to that again.

But he turned back to Cameron, distrustful of this sudden second chance at a normal life.

"I don't understand," he growled in frustration. Many things on this earth annoyed Greg House, but few as much as not understanding something.

"Ahem," Jeeves cleared his throat politely. "If I may speculate, sir?"

"What the hell," House said. He grinned. "Hell. Damn. Mother F…"

"Gregory!" Blythe shouted.

"Sorry," House replied automatically. "Just checking."

"Indeed, sir," Jeeves said without a trifle of the irritation he felt escaping into his voice. "I believe, sir, that the curse has been broken."

"But my curse has already been broken, Jeeves," Cameron argued. "Or I thought it had."

"Yes, madam. Of course. However, I was speaking of the curse laid up Master Greg and Lord General House," Jeeves said.

"I don't…oh," House said, and looked at his father for the first time in years without any enmity.

"Greg?" Cameron asked.

House looked at Wilson, who only smiled.

"He took it back," House said. He was answering Cameron's question, but once again his eyes had journeyed back to his father. "He sacrificed his happily ever after … for me."

"So it would seem, sir," Jeeves said smoothly, and withdrew to stand beside Wilson and Foreman.

"Allison, keep up!" House snarked at her obvious continuing confusion. "How long did you spend with that stupid prince-wannabe anyway? My leg, what happened to me, it was because my father was healed."

"And because Stacy's magic hit him instead of you, it was reversed. You were never meant to be hurt at all," Cameron said slowly while it all really began to feel real. "And if I'm meant to take the form of my true love…"

"You weren't meant to be crippled either," House whispered. "So, how about just a misanthropic bastard?"

Cameron smirked. "Two out of three ain't bad."

House leaned in and kissed her, and hadn't felt so good in years.

The crowd cheered.

House and Cameron continued kissing.

The crowd began to snicker.

House and Cameron continued kissing.

A few people coughed pointedly.

House and Cameron continued kissing.

"Uh, House," Wilson interjected.

"Little busy, getting' my smooch on," House mumbled against Cameron's lips.

"Greg," Cameron said a little breathlessly. "We're getting our happily ever after. But not in front of all these people. And your parents."

"Right," House said, straightening up and looking around at the partygoers. "Hey, aren't we supposed to be having a party?"

The band began to play and for the first time, House and Cameron were able to join in the dancing as husband and wife.

**_The End  
A/N: Please stay tuned for the Epilogue to this story_**

**_  
_****_... by jellybean30_**


	27. The Epilogues

_**A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - The Epilogues**_

_**Epilogue the First**_

Several hours later, the last of the revelers were departing. John and Blythe, assisted by several of the doctors in House's entourage, had retired to bed early in the evening. The party had lasted long and been merry.

House and Cameron were content to sway together in the middle of the dance floor, too enthralled with the idea of being able to dance upright too really think about any other type of …well, dancing.

Wilson was seated at one of the now abandoned tables. The wait staff had already begun the task of cleaning up; the table Wilson occupied was bare save his glass of wine. He watched with mild amusement as Macintosh tried to insinuate himself between the legs of the lone couple on the dance floor.

"Senor James," Foreman called out as he sauntered to Wilson's table, a lovely young lady draped on either arm. "A group of us are continuing the party at The Frisky Feline. Why don't you come along? I'm sure I can find someone you could share your evening with."

Wilson smiled, but his heart wasn't in it. "Thanks, Fritz, but no. I know who I want to share my evening with, and she isn't here."

"I understand, mi amigo. And I admire your wish to be true to your lady love," Foreman said.

"First time for everything!" House shouted from the dance floor.

Wilson rolled his eyes.

"You go on without me," Wilson said. He leaned back in his chair and watched Foreman and his arm accessories walk away as Jeeves approached House and Cameron on the dance floor.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but will you be requiring any further service from me this evening?" Jeeves stood a respectful distance from the couple as he made his inquiry.

"Uh, no, I think I can manage what I've got planned for the rest of tonight without any help thanks," House said. Cameron elbowed him. "What?"

"Very well, sir. I shall take my leave of you," Jeeves pronounced. He stepped to the edge of the dance floor and was immediately surrounded by a flock of Foreman's foxy females.

"Jeeves, you dog," House laughed.

"Indeed, sir," Jeeves replied with the slight elevation of an eyebrow.

Wilson sighed. Couples, couples everywhere but not a girl for him.

"James!"

"Lisa!" Wilson jumped from his chair and dashed across the stone terrace and up the stairs to grab Cuddy in a fierce hug. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to talk to you," she said quietly and Wilson led her to a secluded corner of the terrace to sit on a bench beneath a large tree.

"You could have called. You didn't have to leave PPTH and come all the way here," Wilson said.

"It … it isn't the sort of thing I felt like we could talk about over the phone," Cuddy said, averting her eyes.

"Oh," Wilson said.

"James, I've been working so much lately and I've been so tired and I know that I haven't really treated you very well. And I thought that it was just the stress of the new job and trying to undo all the wrong that Vogler had done. But then after you left, well, I had a chance to think about some things and…" Cuddy still wasn't looking at him, and Wilson heaved a sigh.

"Lisa, you don't have to say it. I understand. It's not the job. It's me. I know that's why you've been so moody and unpredictable lately. You're not happy and I …"

"I'm pregnant," Cuddy said.

"Exactly," Wilson agreed. "You're … I'm sorry, what?"

"Pregnant," Cuddy repeated. She finally looked him in the eye. "After you left, I thought maybe you'd finally just gotten sick of me and my moods. That's why I didn't call sooner. But James, I love you. And I know that you deserve better, but we could be a family."

"You thought I didn't want you?" Wilson asked in disbelief. "I thought you were miserable because you didn't want me!"

They stared at each other incredulously before grabbing each other and sharing a kiss that made even House blush.

"Get a room!"

"Let's get out of here," Wilson said, taking Cuddy by the hand and leading her toward the stairs to leave. He slid an arm around her waist and held her close. "So, when did you find out?"

"Oh, just today," Cuddy said. "Let me tell, all those years I listened to pregnant women complain about their hormones I thought they were just whining. But they can really pack a punch!"

Wilson's eyes widened as he considered the Happily Ever After potion he'd consumed, designed to affect you and your true love.

"Oh?" Wilson asked.

"I wouldn't say I was having hot flashes, exactly, but I kept having the most incredible impulses to just strip off all my clothes," Cuddy admitted.

"Really?" Wilson asked, tossing House a glance over his shoulder as he and Cameron followed Wilson and Cuddy up the stairs. "Anything else, um unusual?"

"Now you mention it, did you ever notice how much the support beams in our closet look like a stripper pole?" Cuddy asked.

Wilson choked. "No, but why don't we go home so you could show me?"

House and Cameron simply snickered behind them.

oOoOo

_**Epilogue part deux**_

"Well, Jeeves, what have you to say?" Bertie asked, tossing the manuscript onto the side table and leaning back into the sofa.

"Most…intriguing, sir," Jeeves said.

"Intriguing? Intriguing?" Bertie parroted. "Jeeves, I get the distinct impression that you are less than dazzled by this creation."

"Indeed, sir?" Jeeves replied, offering an afternoon cocktail to his employer.

"Yes, Jeeves, and I simply won't have it," Bertie said, accepting the proffered drink and sipping it before continuing. "It's called A Tale by the Sisters Hameron, Jeeves. It's the story to read at The Drones this month."

"You must imagine my surprise, sir, "Jeeves said as he carried the tray back into the small kitchen.

"How do they think of these things Jeeves?" Bertie mused as he sipped his cocktail.

"I could not say, sir," Jeeves replied as he returned to the sitting room.

"It's genius, I tell you, positive genius," Bertie asserted. "The work of two truly unique minds."

"That is most assuredly correct, sir," Jeeves agreed.

"There's that tone again, Jeeves. Most unbecoming to begrudge these astonishingly brilliant young ladies their due accolades." Bertie said.

"My apologies, sir. It was not my intention to impugn their work," Jeeves soothed.

"Yes, well. Just be more cognizant of it in future, Jeeves." He waved a hand at the manuscript on the table. "Be a good man and post that masterpiece to Bingo Little, would you? He's been waiting nearly three weeks for the conclusion."

Jeeves gathered the dog-eared pages as delicately as possible.

"Very good, sir."

oOoOo

**_... by jellybean30_**

**A/N:** These epilogues bring "A Tale By The Sisters Hameron - Book 2" to an end.  
It was a pleasure sharing our story with you. Thanks for reading!

**_The Sisters Hameron, a.k.a. jellybean30 and daisyb10._**


End file.
